


Ain't Worth The Price

by Setaeru



Series: Bittersweet [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Bottom Dean, Daddy Issues, Daddy Kink, Dom Castiel, Dom/sub, Fixer Castiel, M/M, Panty Kink, Past Prostitution, Past Sexual Abuse, Praise Kink, Spanking, Sub Dean, Sugar Daddy, Suit Kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-01-16 08:30:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 45,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12339120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Setaeru/pseuds/Setaeru
Summary: Dean Winchester is twenty-three years old and a high school dropout with six bucks to his name. He has two average minimum wage jobs that, most times, require him to work overtime without pay. His little brother is happily out in California studying law at Stanford on a full-ride and living with his -rich- pretty girlfriend in a luscious apartment. His dad is creating a new life for himself out in Minnesota with AA meetings, a fling turned wife and a four year old son. Even his pseudo-uncle is engaged to his pseudo-aunt in South Dakota with a kid on the way. And there’s Dean, sitting in backwater Kansas six figures deep in debt and self hatred and unachievable dreams.Then comes Castiel Novak; an older, handsome man who starts casually throwing money at him. Castiel is graceful, calculated, patient, difficult to dissuade and everything Dean’s wanted in a partner. The problem? Castiel Novak is afixer. And Dean doesnotwant to mess with someone who covers up crimes.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi hi!!!! was gonna save this for something else but then i was like nah. this is supposed to be a kinda short fic (20k-ish) so if it seems a lil rushed well :/
> 
> im sorry for the mistakes and stuff!! please enjoy <3

Dean frowns at the sweating beer bottle, exhausted and stressed, but what else is new, right? He wraps his fingers around the cold neck and lifts the bottle up, tipping his head back as he takes a deep, long gulp. Dean sighs quietly as he sets the bottle back down, picking at the dark blue label on the side. The beer slowly settles in his ragingly empty stomach, and while it’s sickening, Dean welcomes the feeling because it means he has something in his belly.

He reaches back into his right butt pocket and pulls his wallet out, fumbling with the dark leather wallet his mom gave him when he turned four to stash his birthday money. He flips it open and feels his stomach sink at the empty cash pocket. He could have sworn he had several dollars in there. Dean fiddles with the wallet, staring at his bank card and credit cards. He has barely fifteen bucks left in the bank and he needs to buy groceries tomorrow, and he has a feeling that if he uses any of his credit cards, they’ll be declined.

Dean groans softly to himself and finishes off his beer with a few large gulps. He glares at the label, ripping the wet sticker off and making a mess on the bar top. How the hell is he going to pay for his stupid little beer? He needs food other than the basics. Well, it’s more like he wants something better to eat than plain sandwich bread and peanut butter or jam or chocolate spread.

“Here, kid,” the bartender says, setting a fruity drink in front of him. He cleans the pieces Dean ripped off the label and tosses the empty bottle. “From the man at the end of the bar.” The bartender points at a well-dressed, handsome man casually sipping whisky. The man holds his drink up to Dean when he sees him looking, offering a careful, if a little awkward, smirk.

Dean holds his drink up in return and then looks away. It’s a stupid girly drink that his dad told him to never have, and he’s listened well to that command so far. Dean fiddles with the glass, sneaking glances at the man from the corner of his eyes. He’s really hot. He’s older, early to mid forties, maybe. His hair is a mess of dark brown with hints of grey at the temples, sticking up in all directions. He’s wearing a three-piece black suit with an old, well-cared for beige trench coat, and he has a thick layer of dark stubble coating his chiseled jaw.

Dean’s always pathetic when it comes to a well-dressed person. He noticed it a couple years ago, when he walked passed a group of suit-clad men while crossing the street. None of them had been particularly hot or appealing to him. They had all been much older, late forties to early sixties, with thinning hair and larger frames, but they’d gotten in Dean’s good books for the monkey-suits they wore. He never talked to them, didn’t know if they were even nice, but he’d went home that night and jerked off to an imaginary man that looked eerily similar to Dr. Sexy in a sharp suit.

It was odd from then on. Whenever he saw a man in a suit, he’d get flutters in his belly and weak in the knees, and need to take a minute to settle himself. It got even worse when he saw, a few months after he realized his newest kink, a curvy woman with large breasts in a smart pant-suit. He swears his dick never got so hard so fast; his cock had been painful and swollen and the moment he’d ducked around the corner and into an alley, he’d just barely brushed his fingers against his zipper, desperate, and he’d made a mess in his pants.

“Do you not like the drink?” a rich, husky voice drawls from over Dean’s left shoulder. He jumps, surprised, and lifts his head, eyes widening when he sees it’s the man from down the bar. “I can get you something else, if you like,” he continues. The man’s voice sends shivers racing down Dean’s spine and makes him squirm.

“I- Just never, ah, had it before,” Dean says, stumbling over the words and flushing under the man’s heavy, dark blue gaze. The guy nods and glances at the seat next to Dean, but doesn’t move to sit. He lifts his hand and places it on Dean’s far right shoulder, his hand and forearm hot and firm against his clothed back. Dean tenses, not because he’s uncomfortable, but because he’s surprised at the tingling heat that spreads through his body from the simple touch. The man sets something down on the bar, his hand covering it from Dean’s view, and leans down to whisper in his ear.

“Take care,” is all he whispers, but it’s hot and heated and Dean feels his cock twitch and swell with blood as the stranger’s voice rumbles through him. He shivers at the deep tone and turns his head to look at the man quickly, their noses bumping. Dean’s eyes widen and he makes a startled, quiet noise that sounds embarrassingly like a squeak. The man straightens and grins down at him, stepping back and pulling his hand away. He winks at Dean and then he’s gone, striding across to the bar doors and disappearing.

Huh.

Dean swallows dryly and turns to look at his drink, taking a sip of the cosmopolitan and shifting in his seat. He notices something that hadn’t been there before, sitting innocently beside his wallet. A large stack of cash. What looks like a couple hundred in mostly five and ten dollar bills. Dean looks back over his shoulder towards the door, expecting to see the man there watching him, but he’s still gone.

Dean stares at the money for a few minutes, sipping the rest of his fruity drink that surprisingly tastes pretty good. The money is too good to leave but he feels like someone’s going to jump out at any second and tell him it’s just a joke and he can’t have the money. Nothing happens, though, as he finishes his drink and stands from his seat. Maybe the guy just noticed Dean was short on cash and wanted to help him pay for his drink. Yeah, that was probably it. But he left some, a lot, of extra money. Dean tucks the bills into his wallet with a shaky hand, keeping a couple to pay for his drinks.

The bartender glances at him, and then the money, and shakes his head. “Already been paid for,” he says, wiping a glass. Dean stares at him for a few minutes, then looks down at the money. Why the hell would that man pay for his drinks, give him over two hundred in cold cash, and leave without so much as a solicitation for sex? It was very odd, and made Dean feel weird, and nervous. Not… exactly… bad, though.

Dean puts the money in the tip jar, shoves his wallet back into his pocket, and steps away from the bar. He’ll have enough for some decent groceries, and gas, and even be able to get some basic items to help tune up his car. Dean bites his bottom lip as he steps out of the bar, looking around for the man and not seeing him. He feels so confused as he sits down in his car and starts the drive home, but he honestly doesn’t feel bad, not like the many times when he actually fucked people for cash.

Strange.

* * *

Dean doesn’t see the man again for weeks.

And then he’s suddenly strolling into the coffee shop Dean works at, looking regal and intimidating in the soft late afternoon light flooding through the windows of the small shop. He has a sharp, charcoal grey three-piece suit on with a white dress shirt and deep red tie, complete with a matching red handkerchief in his left breast pocket. The man steps up to the counter with two bulky, intimidating men and offers Dean a small, kind smile that seems a little out of place on a person like him.

“Hello,” he says, voice even throatier and gruffer than Dean remembers.

“Hi. What can I get you?” Dean asks, giving himself a mental pat on the back for not stuttering like an idiot.

The man glances down at Dean’s uniform, then around the back-area of the counter where the chalk menu is. “Two medium dark roast coffees, one with cream and sugar, the other black. And… one large iced coffee and a blueberry muffin, please.” Dean’s fingers tremble as he rings the order up. The man hands him a few bills before Dean can even say the price out loud. “Keep the change.” Dean drops the extra into the tip jar and steps away to make the drinks.

He can’t help but glance continuously over at the man, which earns him an amused, indulgent smile when his not so discreet looks are noticed. Dean flushes and pointedly keeps his eyes on the drink in hand as he finishes it and places it on the counter. He finishes the two hot coffees and sets them down as well. He gets a blueberry muffin and puts it in a bag with a napkin, sliding it over the table surface. “Have a good day,” he mumbles, staring at the counter, drumming his fingers on the surface.

Dean listens and watches as he picks up the bag with the muffin and his drink, the two men behind him picking up the other coffees. He hears him stick a straw in the top and take a long sip of the iced coffee. Dean’s toes curl in his boots as the man makes a low, appreciative noise in the back of his throat. “Delicious,” the man says. “Thank you, Dean.” He bristles at the use of his name, and glances up at the man with surprise. He indicates to Dean’s chest with a small smirk. Dean glances down and remembers his name tag. Fuck. The stranger turns on his heel with a wink and strides out the coffee shop doors without a look back.

Dean looks out the window as the man gets into the backseat of a black car which takes off once his two bodyguards get in the front. He glances at the clock on the wall behind himself and sighs. His shift ended half an hour ago, but there’s no one around to take over so he’s forced to stick around while off the clock and take care of customers. He can either stick around or fuck off, according to the douche bag he calls a boss. It’s not like Dean has another choice. He has a shit ton of debts to pay off, any of Sam’s expenses not covered by his scholarship to take care of, and his own monthly bills too.

He notices a pristine white envelope leaning against the tip jar with his name printed in neat cursive over the front. Dean frowns and picks it up, flipping open the back and peeking inside. He drops it onto the table immediately, lifting his head to look out the window where the stranger’s car had been. He looks back down at the envelope with wide eyes. It’s not real, it can’t be. Dean looks in the envelope again and... yep. There it is. He quickly shut the envelope and shoves it into the front right pocket of his jeans, under his apron, his heart beating harder.

A _very_ fat stack of one-hundred dollar bills.

Oddly, Dean stomach flutters as he thinks of the parting wink and the money the stranger gave him. It’s making him feel good, and he’s not sure he wants that feeling to stop. He feels like he’s being bought, but he also feels like he’s being cared for. It’s worrisome, because this man is not someone he really knows, and yet Dean feels more safe with him than he does his own father.

The money burns a hole in his pocket for the next two hours. Then continues to feel heavy as he makes the short walk home to his tiny shoebox apartment four blocks over. He showers, counts the money, paces, makes himself a peanut butter and jam sandwich and eats it, then he counts the money again. The amount doesn’t change. Dean sits on his worn, springy couch and stares at it.

Ten thousand dollars.

Did that man carry it around with him the whole time? How did Dean not see him scribble his name on the front? How did he miss him putting it beside the tip jar? Why did he give Dean the money? He didn’t do anything noteworthy, anything extravagant, he just made him and his bodyguards coffee and gave him a muffin. Dean doesn’t understand what this man wants. And if he doesn’t want anything, what does he have to gain from giving Dean a heck of a lot of money?

He spends the whole night worrying about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope u liked that!! comments and kudos make me happy <3


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY IF IT'S BAD

A week passes by slowly, with minimal thought of the man that gave him ten-thousand two-hundred and thirty dollars. Dean’s unusually busy catering to the customers of the coffee shop, making sure the place is clean and acceptable, and even baking when the baker calls off two days in a row. To make matters worse, the garage has been extra-packed with people wanting oil and brake and transmission fluid changes, rust touch ups; two people’s transmissions died and another person ruined their car starter. It’s been a mess.

With his shift at the coffee shop finally over, Dean plops down in an empty seat in the back and takes a moment to relax and gather himself before making the walk home. He should have drove today, but he knows he needs to lose a few pounds and what better way than to walk to and from the coffee shop everyday. It’s not like it’s that far from his apartment. He sips his coffee and stares out the window as the sun slowly begins to set in the distance. The shop only closes at midnight but it’s already dead. Dean’s bitter because the night-shift worker is a part-timer and only has to deal with, at most, twenty customers - if any. He knows the morning shift is hell, though. He shudders thinking about it. He usually starts at seven in the morning on his day’s off from the auto-shop, and only gets off at six in the evening sometimes.

“May I sit with you?” a somewhat familiar voice asks lowly, warmly.

Dean lifts his head and pauses, surprised to see it’s the guy that gave him all the money. “S-sure,” he stammers, sitting up straighter. He runs a hand through his hair, wincing as it comes away greasy. He knows he looks like shit, but he just got off of a six hour shift, and before that he worked a seven hour shift at the garage. He’s only had time to clean the visible parts of his skin since his first shift.

Dean takes a second to look the man over. He looks a lot more casual today. With a simple deep blue button up with the sleeves rolled up to reveal a little piece of a forearm tattoo and the collar unbuttoned, and a pair of black slacks that make his ass look fantastic - not that Dean’s looking at his ass, of course. The stranger is quiet for a few minutes after he takes his seat, studying Dean while sipping from his iced coffee every few seconds.

“So,” Dean mutters, clearing his throat and looking down at his coffee. “What’s your name?”

“Castiel Novak,” the man answers, idly drumming his fingertips on the table. “Ah... how old are you?” Castiel asks. Dean blinks and leans back. He stares down at the table. Castiel sounds like he has an accent - or maybe it’s just the way he speaks, but it’s so difficult to tell when his voice is already so distractingly deep and delicious.

“’m twenty-three,” he says, spinning his coffee in his hands and frowning. “You?”

“Forty-four,” he replies easily. That makes him, what? Twenty-one years older than Dean? Wow. He’s old enough to be his father. Dean swallows thickly and pushes that thought away. He is not his father. Dean knows his own father, and he’s not Castiel. Fuck, why is he thinking about this so much? Dean tightens his grip on his coffee and takes a long gulp of it, reveling in the painful burn in his mouth and throat. “Does that make you uncomfortable?”

“W-what? No,” Dean says quickly, bouncing his leg. He sips his drink. It does, it makes him nervous.

“You’re lying,” Castiel drawls, sounding almost... amused? Dean glances at him from beneath his lashes, cheeks flushed. Castiel’s head is tilted and his eyes are squinted, like he’s trying to get a read on Dean. “Why does our difference in age make you uncomfortable?”

“Why  _ doesn’t  _ it make you uncomfortable?” Dean counters.

“You are an adult. There is nothing to be uncomfortable about.”

Dean huffs quietly and pulls the lid off his coffee cup. He looks inside to see a quarter-full cup of coffee and breathes deeply. Smells good. He wishes he made himself a bigger cup. Dean shrugs, and says, “I dunno, man.”

“Is it because-” Castiel cuts himself off. He tenses up for a moment, studying Dean with a surprised, and suddenly keenly interested, gaze. Dean ducks his head, feeling something unfamiliar curl in his belly at the intense stare being directed at him. “I see.”

“See, what?” Dean asks, frowning.

Dean blinks and the look is gone from Castiel’s face and he’s relaxing back in his seat. “Nothing, Dean,” Castiel says, offering him a warm smile that’s clearly supposed to be a distraction from his previous expression. Dean frowns deeper and lifts his drink up, just as the edge of the disposable cup touches his bottom lip, something brushes against his foot. He freezes and glances under the table, wondering if they have a rat problem. It’s not a rat, instead he finds a shiny black shoe pressed against his booted foot.

He glances up at Castiel, surprised, and wonders why he’s suddenly touching his foot. Castiel merely blinks at him, his lips still turned up into a half-smile. Castiel moves his foot closer, brushing his ankle against Dean’s, the side of his calf against Dean’s shin. He’s warm, unnaturally so, and it sends a shiver racing up Dean’s spine. He lifts his coffee up and takes a long, deep gulp from it, feeling the hot beverage slide down his throat and settle in his stomach. It feels good, but suddenly it’s too hot in the cafe and Dean feels cramped in his small booth seat.

Dean lifts his cup again, throat suddenly too dry, but finds it’s empty. He drank all of his coffee. Castiel chuckles, low and rich, and for one brief moment Dean freezes with horror, wondering if he knows everything that’s running through Dean’s head at the moment. Then he realizes, that no, of course he doesn’t. He can’t.

“Thirsty?” Castiel asks, amused. Dean glances up at him, cheeks flushing, and nods. He moves to stand, to get another drink, to get away for just a couple minutes, but Castiel holds up one finger. He picks up his iced coffee, leaning his elbows on the hard table, and tilts it towards Dean. It’s not far away, maybe just past the halfway point of the table. The straw faces Dean, and he can see a drop of coffee on the inside of the dark red plastic.

Dean licks his lips, hesitant, and glances at Castiel’s face. He’s watching him with dark eyes, lips pressed together, jaw clenched. Dean slowly leans closer, placing his forearms on the table, and watches as Castiel swallows. He feels bold, confident, and resists the urge to smile; he slowly, teasingly, wraps his lips around the top of the straw. He doesn’t drink, but he slides his lips down to the top of the lid, eyes locked on Castiel’s, and then back up to the tip. He sips a small amount, moaning quietly as the cool coffee soothes his warm mouth and wets his drying throat.

He leans back a couple inches, and licks his lips again, grinning at Castiel. “Thanks,” he says softly. Dean blinks and then leans back fully, settling in his seat again and waiting. Castiel’s lips are parted now, and his eyes are full of desire and hunger. His gaze drops down to Dean’s shirt, then he abruptly clears his throat and leans back. Castiel sips from his drink, then sets it down on the table, his hand dropping down after, fingernails tapping against the surface.

“You’re a naughty boy, aren’t you, Dean?” Castiel drawls, voice low, alluring. Dean shrugs, blinking innocently. “Very naughty,” Castiel mumbles to himself, leaning forward again. He pushes the drink across the table towards Dean, tucking himself into the corner of the bench seat, his right arm going across the back. “Drink,” he instructs, head tilted to the side.

Dean swallows, glancing between the drink and Castiel’s face, frowning. He tentatively picks up the cup, surprised to find it’s more than half-full, and takes a small sip from the straw. When he pulls back, he licks the tip of the straw, collecting a drop of coffee. Castiel isn’t looking at his eyes anymore, but his lips. Castiel’s mouth is parted, tongue teasingly poking out from between white teeth. Dean squirms, feeling his pants tighten. He curls his toes in his shoes, surprised that his cock is plumping up.

A sharp ringing breaks through the moment, making both of them jump and tense up. Dean sets the drink down quickly and pulls his phone out, flipping it open to see it’s Sam calling. “Uh,” he glances at Castiel, “just gimme a minute.” Castiel nods stiffly. Dean clicks the green answer button and holds the flip phone up to his ear. “Heya, Sammy,” he says, clearing his throat and fiddling with the lid of the iced coffee.

“It’s  _ Sam _ , Dean. And hey,” his little brother says. There’s noise in the background, some shouting and laughing and bickering, but it quickly disappears with the closing of a door. “How are you?”

“I’m good, buddy,” Dean says, aware of Castiel’s inquisitive eyes on him. “How about you?”

“I’m okay,” Sam replies. There’s a pause in their conversation, then Sam speak again. “I just, uh...” He sounds hesitant. Dean can already tell where this conversation is going. “I need some money.” And there it is. Sam usually only calls him to ask for money these days. It’s difficult, considering how close they used to be before Sam went away to his fancy school and found all these fancy, rich friends.

“How much?” Dean asks, rubbing a hand over his face. It’s cold from the drink, and feels absolutely amazing on his warm face.

“Well, I,” Sam clears his throat nervously. “Nine thousand,” he mumbles.

“Nine-” Dean cuts himself off when he realizes how loud he was. He closes his eyes and grits his teeth, fisting his hair in his hand. “What the fuck did you do, Sam?” He jolts and opens his eyes when fingers wrap around his wrist and gently tug his hand away from his hair. He looks up and over at Castiel, who is leaning across the table with a frown on his face. He cards his own fingers through Dean’s hair, soothing the spot Dean held onto and probably pulled a few strands out of. 

“Nothing!” Sam protests. “Just- There was this game and it got a little out of hand... I need to pay someone off.” Castiel drops his hand and Dean immediately misses the feeling of those long fingers in his hair. Castiel doesn’t lean back, just adjusts himself until he’s leaning comfortably on the table.

“Fucking hell, Sam,” Dean says. “When do you need it?”

“... tomorrow,” Sam says. “It’s not that big of a deal, Dean. It’s just money.”

“It’s a big-” Dean cuts himself off again. He knows arguing with Sam will get him nowhere. Dean doesn’t get paid until the following Thursday night but he has the money that Castiel gave him. His stomach turns and he feels sick all of a sudden. He doesn’t want to give Castiel’s money to Sam, but he doesn’t exactly have another choice. And no way in hell is he going to let Sam be in debt to some snotty rich kid until he can gather enough from his paychecks. “I’ll send you it tomorrow, okay?”

“Thanks, Dean. You’re a lifesaver. I’ll talk to you later, okay? Bye.” Sam hangs up before he can say anything.

Dean frowns. “Yeah,” he mutters, pulling the phone away from his ear. “Bye.” Dean flips his phone closed and shoves it into his pocket.

“What was that about?” Castiel asks after a few minutes. Dean glances at him, then sighs and slumps back against his seat, staring down at his hands.

“Brother needs some cash,” Dean says, shrugging.

“How much?” Castiel asks, leaning back and relaxing.

Dean clenches his jaw. “Too much,” he mumbles.

“Thousands?”

“Christ...” He sighs. “Yeah. Nine,” Dean says, rubbing his face tiredly.

Castiel hums softly, his eyes heavy on Dean’s face. Dean licks his lips, tasting coffee. He stands up, grabbing his empty coffee cup and the iced coffee. “Thanks for the drink, and the conversation,” Dean says, clearing his throat and refusing to look at Castiel’s eyes. “I gotta go. I- See you around.” Castiel opens his mouth to say something, leaning forward, but Dean steps away from the table and speed walks towards the exit.

He hears Castiel say his name, but pretends like he didn’t hear a damn thing. He doesn’t need Castiel to say anything. Dean’s acutely aware of the differences in their financial situations, and he doesn’t need Castiel around to remind him of them. Or worse, offer to help. Would he? Probably.

Dean does not want to be in debt to another person. Dean can just send the money Castiel gave him to his little brother. He didn’t use too much of the cash he was given. He can just give Sam the ten thousand dollars Castiel gave him in the envelope. He just... he wishes he didn’t have to give Sam any of the money Castiel gave to him.

He feels dirty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope u liked that!! comments and kudos make me happy <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoy!! <3

Dean gets fired.

His boss - ex-boss - at the coffee shop felt he wasn’t doing a good enough job. Which is total bullshit, in Dean’s opinion. Dean was the one cleaning the bathrooms, the floors, the tables, the counters, the kitchen, serving customers with smiles, even baking when the baker called off. He was the one staying for people that were late, picking up their slack. He did his fucking job, did more than he was asked to keep the shit joint running, and he’s the one getting fired. It’s fucking bullshit.

He tries his best to forget about it. It’s difficult, when all he can do is curse his ex-boss as he remembers how much job hunting sucks. He can’t find many places that want anything remotely similar to his skill sets; and the one place he does find never calls him for an interview. Dean gives up after three weeks of nothing but shit. He stops putting money in his savings account - which has less than one thousand dollars, anyways - and focuses on paying his apartment bills, keeping the interest off his debts. He starts to give Sam a smaller amount of money. It’s all difficult, but once he gives up on buying groceries other than bread, he manages.

Sam complains about the lack of money, which pisses Dean off enough to tell him to grow the fuck up and get a job. He hangs up, and ignores his cell as it rings immediately after, and then blows up with texts. Sam’s an asshole, he used to understand the difficulties of life, but now he’s jealous that they never grew up with silver spoons in their mouths. He’s mad that they don’t have all the disposable cash the other students at Stanford do. He’s... Dean sighs and rubs his face tiredly. He glances at the clock on his bedroom wall. Just after seven in the evening.

Dean stands up and tugs on some clean clothing over his boxers, grabbing his wallet and keys and cell and heading for his apartment door. He locks it tightly behind himself and skips down the two flights of stairs to the ground floor of the building. The elevator has been out of service since he moved in - which was three years ago. Dean strolls out of his apartment building and turns left, heading down the nearly empty street to the park a couple blocks over. It’s a decent enough evening, and it’s better than sitting in his apartment feeling sorry for himself.

He sits down on a bench with its back facing the dead street and it’s front facing a small jungle gym with one kid and a mom sitting on a bench close by. She waves at Dean when she sees him, and it takes him a second to recognize her as one of his neighbors. He waves back but doesn’t go over to say a proper greeting. He gazes into the small forest just off to the side. He watches the squirrels and chipmunks run around, the birds fly about and chirp at each other. He watches a bee several feet away, head first in a flower, little butt wiggling around.

Dean wishes his life was simple.

He doesn’t know how long he sits there, but it’s long enough for his neighbor and her son to tell him goodbye as they head off and the sun to move significantly closer to the western horizon. He sits forward, rubbing his eyes with his palms. His eyes burn, and his throat feels tight. Dean wishes he wasn’t dumb, that he had an education, that he could be something other than some stupid little fucking bum that has to struggle to make ends meet while paying off debts that barely belong to him and supporting an ungrateful little brother.

“Dean?”

He startles, turning around quickly to look at the person who said his name. It’s Castiel, looking as nice as ever in a black two-piece suit, light pink dress shirt and a black peacoat. Dean clears his throat quickly. “Oh, hi,” he says awkwardly. He vividly remembers how their last conversation ended and he feels guilty. He remembers the phone call with Sam, ignoring him as he walked away. He feels gross, sick. He doesn’t want to feel like this. Not… not around Castiel. His heart clenches tightly in his chest, and for barely a second, struggles to beat.

“Hi,” Castiel says, walking over to him. He’s holding a takeout cup of coffee, but it’s not from the place Dean used to work at. Castiel sits down beside him, much too close for it to be polite, and casually throws an arm over the back of the bench. “How-” he pauses, slowly crossing his legs at the knee, turned towards Dean. Castiel studies Dean’s face for a moment, eyes sharp and unnervingly penetrating. Dean clears his throat again and turns his face away, cheeks warming. “Are you alright, Dean?” Castiel asks softly.

“Peachy,” he says. “You?”

“I’m well,” Castiel answers. He hesitates, then seems to push aside whatever he’s thinking. “I haven’t seen you at that coffee shop for a while,” he says casually. Dean glances at him from the corner of his eye, but Castiel’s looking up at the sky instead of him. Did he really go there often enough to notice Dean’s absence? Seems like it.

“Got fired,” Dean says, shrugging as Castiel glances at him with mild surprise. “Apparently I wasn’t doing a good enough job,” he continues. “Which is fucking bullshit because I’m the one that did absolutely everything in that shitty place. I didn’t even do anything to get myself fired. It’s bad for my work reputation and god, fuck-” Dean leans forward, elbows on his knees, and fists his hands in his hair. “Fucking dick.” A familiar anger is building inside of him again.

Castiel’s hand carefully touches his lower back, and slides up his spine. It’s tickling and it makes Dean shiver, but also lean into the warmth. So he’s a little touch-starved, sue him. Castiel’s hand moves up to his hair, where he carefully tugs Dean’s fingers out of his hair and massages the abused sections of scalp. He makes a disapproving tutting noise and tugs Dean to sit back against the bench. He moves willingly, turning his head to look at Castiel as the man rests his upper arm and elbow on the back of the bench and runs his hand through Dean’s hair.

“I’m sorry you were fired, Dean,” Castiel says softly, gently. “If it makes you feel better, I noticed their customers dwindling. The place looks like a mess and the food is... bad, to say the least. The drinks are even worse.” Castiel wrinkles his nose as he says this, like he’s remembering it and feeling an immense amount of disgust. Dean smirks a touch and shrugs.

“Kinda does,” he mumbles, feeling relaxed. He blames the hand in his hair, and refuses to think that maybe it’s because Castiel is a calm, warm presence beside him that makes him feel loose and content; safe. He glances at Castiel’s clothes again, and hesitates. “What do you do?”

“Excuse me?” Castiel says, his hand freezing in Dean’s hair. His open expression melts into a blank one and his eyes darken. He studies Dean with a cold gaze, sweeping his eyes up and down his body like he’s trying to figure something out.

Dean swallows thickly, nervous at the sudden change, but repeats himself with a little more detail, “What do you do for work?” Castiel hums softly and pulls his hand away. Dean sits up straighter in his seat and feels like he’s lost something. Castiel pulls his arm away completely and even turns his body to face forward. He’s quiet for several long minutes, contemplative.

“I am a very bad man, Dean,” Castiel finally begins, his voice monotonous, cool, empty. It scares Dean, makes him wish he never opened his stupid fucking mouth. “I’m done very bad things to and for people.” Castiel directs a bland gaze to Dean as he speaks, eyes squinted and his left eyebrow raised just a touch. He looks threatening. He feels like Castiel can snap his neck at any second and it’s more than a little horrifying.

“Why?”

“It’s my job,” Castiel says simply.

“But...” Dean licks his lips and drops his eyes to the space between their bodies. “I- So... What does that make you?”

Castiel leans closer, which surprises Dean and makes him lift his gaze. “I am what they call a fixer,” he says it like he’s telling Dean the weather. It’s flippant and calm and nonchalant. Dean swallows and nods sharply once.

“So you...” Dean hesitates, but something undecipherable in Castiel’s expression makes him continue. “... Cover things up?”

Castiel smiles now, but it’s empty and dull and makes Dean’s stomach turn unpleasantly. Castiel sniffs and clears his throat, turning his face away. He gazes down at his coffee cup. He’s quiet for several minutes. Then he tilts his face towards Dean, eyes looking at him more from the side then the middle. “Something like that,” he says, lifting his head and turning to look at him fully. “I am-” Castiel pauses for a brief moment, then changes what he was going to say, “How does that make you feel?”

“ _How does that make me feel?_ ” Dean repeats, standing up and beginning to pace in front of Castiel. “You’re a _fixer_. I know what the hell a fixer does. You cover up cheating and murders and rape and make evidence disappear and- fuck. _Man_. Fuck.” Dean runs his hands through his hair, lacing his fingers together behind his head. He stops pacing and stares at a tree. “Why are you telling me this?”

“I like you, Dean,” Castiel says immediately. “And I’m beginning to trust you.” Dean snorts.

He has to be joking, Dean decides. They hardly even know each other. He turns to look at Castiel, crossing his arms over his chest and staring down at him. He doesn’t look like he’s joking. Jesus fuck. “Maybe I’m overreacting,” Dean begins, clenching his hands into fists. “But-” He cuts himself off.

“What?” Castiel leans forward, eager, hopeful, to hear that Dean’s overreacting.

Dean inhales deeply. “But I don’t think I am. Castiel, I-” he says, stepping back. “I-” Dean licks his lips, hesitating for a moment, catching sight of the hurt that flashes across Castiel’s eyes. He turns his head away and spins on his heel, walking around the bench and stepping onto the sidewalk.

So much for that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope u liked that!! comments and kudos make me happy :D


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi. enjoy~
> 
> sry for any mistakes or yakno if its bad

He thinks about it for days afterward.

Castiel is a fixer.

A _fixer_.

He probably should have seen it coming. Dean feels stupid and slow, exactly like his dad used to tell him when he couldn’t understand a homework problem. Or when he couldn’t understand one of his endless, harsh commands to do this or that.

_Pathetic._

Dean angrily bites into his peanut butter and jam sandwich, chewing the food and swallowing, throat dry. He sips his carbonated drink, shivering at the bubbles that attack his mouth. His stomach is turning with hunger, so he eats quicker, trying to soothe the slowly lessening ache faster.

“Hey, Dean,” someone says, stepping into the small breakroom. Dean glances up, dread building low in his belly when he sees it’s one of his co-workers, Gordon Walker. He’s a bit of an asshole, set in his traditional hetero and sexist ways, but he’s not _that_ bad of a person.

Even so, Dean pretends like he’s chewing a bite of his sandwich, taking another large gulp of his drink to wash down the imaginary food just to delay speaking to him. “What’s up, man?” he says. Gordon shrugs and sits down across from him, unwrapping a sandwich from Subway.

“Don’t wanna ruin your lunch or anything,” Gordon starts, staring down at his veggie sub. He clears his throat and lifts his head, locking eyes with Dean. “Just a warning. They’re cutting back on staff, and I heard Zachariah mention both of our names.”

“Well, shit,” Dean says, setting down his sandwich and leaning back in his chair. He glances out of the break room window, squinting past the blinds to try and peer into their boss’ office. The door is closed, and the blinds inside shut; that can’t be a good sign. Zachariah likes to keep his window clear and his door open, so he can watch his workers and make sure they’re not slacking off.

“Yep,” Gordon mumbles.

Dean still hasn’t been able to find a second job, and if he’s about to lose this one, then he’s really fucked. He can barely afford to pay his bills, barely able to buy a couple loafs of bread and his peanut butter and jam; and nevermind about his debt, he’s entirely fucked over with that. He doesn’t know what he’s going to do.

“Thanks for telling me, man,” he says quietly. “I appreciate the heads up.”

“Figured you’d do the same for me,” Gordon replies, shrugging. Dean nods once, and wraps his sandwich back up in the tub he put it in this morning. He stands up and puts it in the fridge to stay cold until he can take it home with him later. He can’t waste food. He finishes his drink off, tossing the empty can in the recycling bin behind the door.

He clocks off his break and heads back to work on the Chevrolet in bay 4.

He misses the shark-like grin that appears on Gordon’s face as he leaves.

* * *

Gordon was right.

At the end of his shift the very next day, Zachariah calls him into his office. By the look on his face, Dean can already tell what he’s going to say. Zachariah tries to let him down easy, telling him they’re cutting down on staff and since Dean’s the newest hire, he has to let him go first. He takes it in stride, pleased to see Zachariah look confused at his calm attitude.

Funny enough, Zachariah also tells him that he’s really just brought this on himself, and that he’s deposited his pay in his bank account, even gives him a paper with information of the transaction and other shit. Dean walks out of his office without a backwards glance, listening idly as Gordon is asked to come into Zachariah’s office over the intercom. Dean clears his locker out, stuffing everything in the backpack he left at the bottom. He takes care of the food he stashed in the fridge in the breakroom, and leaves his greasy overalls on a bench in the locker room.

As he’s walking past a car, choosing to go out through one of the bays instead of the main door for customers, he hears laughter and congratulations. Dean pauses, mostly hidden behind one of the cars, and turns to look towards Zachariah’s office. The other guys are shoving Gordon around good-naturedly, all grins and smiles and laughter and _happiness_.

It takes Dean a whole minute of listening to them to figure out why. Gordon’s been promoted. Everything after that is white noise, his eyes glazing over, his stomach rolling unpleasantly. He’s been fired so Gordon could be promoted. Dean makes the drive home blindly, hands trembling and throat tight.

He steps into his apartment and leans back against his door, dropping his backpack to his feet. Dean sinks down the door to sit on his ass, knees bent close to his chest, eyes blankly staring across the room. His eyes slowly blur with unshed tears, the droplets falling from his eyelashes and landing on his cheeks, sliding down over his jaw and neck and disappearing into his t-shirt to soak into the fabric. He wraps his arms around his legs slowly, dropping his forehead to rest on his knees.

Not for the first time, Dean wishes he was a child again. Curled up in his mom’s comforting arms, head ducked under his dad’s reassuring hand, a big grin on his face as he stares at his infant brother. Safe and protected and innocent.

* * *

Eventually, he can’t pay his rent.

He clears out his entire apartment, packing everything of value into his car, leaving the furniture and tossing the rest of the useless shit in the garbage. He doesn’t have much money left, but he manages to pay for an almost full tank of gas, and two twenty-four packs of bottled water and two packs of wipes and a few bars of soap, and still have a little left over. The supplies aren’t much but they’ll have to do.

With the rest of his money, he heads to the liquor store and purchases a bottle of Jack Daniels. Dean drives to an open field just on the edge of town and sits on the hood of his car, cracking open the bottle and sniffing the contents. He hasn’t had a drop of alcohol since that cosmopolitan several weeks ago.

He never had a lick of alcohol before his dad straightened up after finding out his then-fling and now-wife was pregnant with his child, and joined Alcoholics Anonymous. That was, what? Four and a half years ago? He doesn’t even remember. He started drinking four-ish years ago because he was bitter about his dad trying to change for people that weren’t him or Sam. He can only imagine how pathetic and unworthy he’s in his dad’s eyes. An unemployed, seasoned whore with no high school diploma and a hell of a lot of stupid problems.

Disgusting.

He stares down at the bottle, gripping the neck tightly in his hand. He slowly lifts it up, breathing in deeply before gulping down a large mouthful of the whisky. He immediately slides off the hood and throws it back up with a groan, coughing and spitting onto the grass below. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and takes another swig, grimacing but managing to keep it down. He climbs back up on the hood and puts the lid back on the bottle, leaning back on the hood, free hand tucked behind his head.

The sun is setting in the distance, the sky splattered with reds and yellows and blues and purples, clouds reflecting the dying light of the setting sun. It’s beautiful. The alcohol slowly settles in his empty stomach, soothing the burn of hunger momentarily. He feels empty, and painfully alone. Dean sits up, unscrewing the cap on the whisky, gulping down a few mouthfuls desperately, a few drops spilling from the sides of his mouth. He wipes his mouth again and sighs, dropping back down to look at the sky again.

He loses track of time, mindlessly drinking and watching as the sun sets completely, a glowing crescent moon left in it’s wake. A chill has settled over the field, a dampness to the air, but Dean doesn’t really notice it. At least, he doesn’t notice until the first drop of rain lands on his forehead, startling him. He sits up as more rain begins to fall, wrinkling his nose. He caps his half-empty bottle of whisky and slides off the hood.

Dean sways immediately once he gets to his feet, stomach turning. He waits for his stomach to settle, uncaring as he gets wet, before climbing into the front seat of his car. He may be drunk but he’s not dumb, he makes sure all the doors are locked and his handgun is in reaching distance before curling up on the front bench seat, eyes falling shut.

* * *

He wakes up shivering.

Dean groans, sitting up slowly, curling his cold toes in his boots. He rubs his eyes and face quickly, tucking his hands under his arms to warm them. He squints out the windows, frowning when he sees a wispy white fog on the horizon. He unlocks the driver’s side door and opens it, stepping out into the cool morning air.

It’s even colder out here, the wind biting into his neck and sliding down his back from the top of his jacket. His stomach turns, a reminder of his stupid drinking the night before, but he doesn’t feel a desperate urge to throw up. He holds his breath, swallowing a few times, trying to shove the somewhat-nauseous feeling away.

He brushes his teeth, rinsing his mouth and brush with some water after. He takes a quick leak two dozen feet from his car in a bush, cleaning his hands with some water and one of the bars of soap. It’s not much but he doesn’t exactly have a choice. He wishes he wasn't homeless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading yall. comments and kudos make r much appreciated :D


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this is basically why i wrote this fic lmfao
> 
> for the smut ofc

Two weeks later, he’s still in the dumb field. He usually wakes up early, watches the sun rise up into the sky, usually sits on the hood of his car and watches as another day goes by. He should do something, get up, try to find a job, help with… something; but he doesn’t.

One particular day, he hears the roar of a car engine and freezes, sliding off his car and looking down the road. He’s off the main road, so there shouldn’t be any traffic this way. He’s seen one car in the last couple weeks. It’s a public road, though, and he’s not doing anything illegal. It’s fine.

A sleek black car turns onto the road, just barely visibly past the early morning fog. The person in the car passes him, then slows and reverses, coming right up beside Dean. The windows are blacked-out and it’s difficult to see into the vehicle. The car turns off and the driver’s side door opens and a man- _Castiel_ steps out.

“Hello, Dean,” he says, slamming the door shut and stepping around the hood. He looks like a mess. His hair is wet and dirty, and his once-white dress shirt and pristine black slacks are covered in dirt and what looks like dried blood. “Are you alright? What are you doing out here?”

“I’m-” Dean swallows, staring pointedly at the blood on his shirt. “I’m fine. Thanks.” Castiel hesitates, slowly stepping closer to him foot by foot. “Seriously, I’m fine,” he insists.

“You don’t look very well,” Castiel says softly, closing the short distance between them. He gently cups Dean’s face, his hand rough and dirty, and so warm. Dean squeezes his eyes shut and leans into the hand, his heart beating faster in his chest. “What’s wrong?”

“You really wanna know?” Dean says.

“Yes, of course.”

“Then tell me why you look the way you do right now.”

Castiel bristles at his words, dropping his hand to his side and taking a large step backwards. He stares at Dean blankly for a few minutes, jaw clenched tight. Dean refuses to look away, keeping his gaze firmly on Castiel’s, waiting.

“I was burying a dead body,” he answers slowly. Dean nods sharply and drops his eyes, shuffling backwards and turning to the side. “Dean-”

“Thanks for being honest.”

“I didn’t kill them.”

“But you’re protecting who did.”

“I-” Castiel clears his throat. “Yes. It’s my job.”

“Didn’t have to be.”

“It did, actually. It was either this or-”

“Or, _what_?”

“... or I, and several other people, die. I didn’t- _don’t_ want them to be killed. I don’t want to die, either; not yet, at least.” Castiel says, rubbing his mouth with his hand. Castiel walks closer to Dean, crowding him up against the wet side of his car. He reaches his hands up, cradling Dean’s face in his hands carefully, tilting his head up so their eyes can lock. “Tell me,” he demands quietly. “What’s wrong?”

“Lost my other job,” he admits, wanting desperately to look away from the intensity of Castiel’s dark blue eyes, and feeling unable to. “And my apartment.” Castiel closes his eyes for just a second. He lets go of Dean’s face, and for a moment, Dean’s worried he’s going to leave. Instead, Castiel tugs him into his arms, wrapping one around the middle of his back and the other across his shoulder blades, hand cupping the back of his head.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” he says into his hair, breath hot against his scalp. “Let me help you.”

“What can you do?” he mumbles in response. Dean slowly brings his arms up, wrapping them around Castiel’s waist, tucking his face into his collar. He smells like sweat and dirt and blood, a hint of cinnamon and a dash of familiar cologne evident under the mingled scents. Much better than Dean smells.

“What do you need me to do?”

Dean scoffs. “I _need_ help to pay off my debt and a place to live.” Dean pushes him back, staring at him hesitantly. “But what I _want_ , however, is a job. Will you get me a job?”

“Whatever you want to be,” Castiel says. “I’ll make it happen.”

“I want to-” Dean cuts himself off. Castiel raises his left eyebrow, somehow staring down at him even though Dean’s quite sure he’s an inch taller. “I want to work with you.”

“In what sort of way?”

“Want to be yours.”

“You can be mine without working with me,” Castiel says, thumb rubbing behind Dean’s left ear. Castiel sighs softly, nudging Dean’s head down, pressing his dry lips to Dean’s forehead. Silence settles over them, a crow cawing in the distance, an owl hooting. Castiel is so warm. Dean holds him tighter, hands shaking where they’re holding onto Castiel’s shirt.

Castiel inhales audibly, pausing for a brief moment, holding the breath. “Are you good at cleaning?”

* * *

Castiel hires him as a housekeeper, essentially. A live-in person to clean his house, cook meals for him and cater to any and all of his needs while he’s home. He gives him his own room with a big bathroom, which he immediately takes advantage of and scrubs himself red.

Dean cracks a joke about being a maid, to which Castiel just smiles and stares at him, then disappears after his shower, and comes back in the evening with a maid costume, which he teasingly demands Dean wear. Dean gapes at it, and then smirks and snatches it from Castiel’s hands, storming into the washroom on the main floor and stripping and pulling it on. It comes with stupidly small white panties and matching stockings that go up to mid-thigh. He stares at himself in the small mirror above the sink after he’s done putting it on, moving up onto the tips of his toes, trying to get a better look.

Taking a deep breath, Dean opens the door and steps out, going to find where Castiel disappeared to. He’s sitting in the family room, looking relaxed and at-ease, legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankle. He took his blazer off, loosened his tie and unbuttoned his collar, rolled his cuffs up to his elbows, thrown his left arm over the back of the sofa. He looks good.

Dean squints, taking a moment to finally look at the tattoo on Castiel’s forearm. There’s an intricate black rose with hints of white on the inner part of his left forearm. There are three filled in leaves, but only one has something unique; it’s the middle leaf, and it has the date ‘04-09-80.’ There’s a word in cursive written below the flower, too. _Anna._

Shaking his head, Dean turns his eyes back to Castiel’s face. “How do I look?” Dean asks, leaning against the doorframe, one leg bent, arms crossed over his chest. Castiel startles a little, muting the TV before turning to look at him. His eyes widen and his lips part, his cheeks visibly pinkening as his eyes hungrily roam over Dean’s entire body. “Like a proper little maid?” he continues, pushing off the wall and stepping deeper into the room.

He’s not ashamed about wearing women’s clothes. He’s done it before and enjoyed it plenty.

Castiel sits up properly, feet firmly planted on the ground, heels pressing into the bottom of the sofa. Dean glances down at his lap, pleased to see the growing bulge in his crotch area. His suit slacks leave nothing to the imagination. Dean licks his lips and slowly walks over to him, stepping in front of him, legs spread apart and on either side of Castiel’s.

He slowly lowers himself down until he’s straddling his legs, shuffling closer so he’s practically sitting on the bulge in his pants. Castiel groans quietly, slumping back against the sofa, his large, veiny hands curling around the sides of Dean’s thighs, just above his knees. “You-” he breathes, dropping his gaze to the bottom of the skirt, eyes locked on the creamy skin peeking out from beneath, “-are sinful.”

“I like my uniform, Mr. Novak,” Dean says, keeping his voice low. “Thank you for being so thoughtful.” Castiel’s eyes fall shut as he licks his lips, and he tightens his grip on Dean’s thighs. When he opens his eyes, he looks at Dean’s lips, gaze swirling with lust. “Do you need me to do anything for you right now, sir?”

“Stop being a tease,” he growls as Dean wet his lips with his tongue.

“ _Make me_.”

That’s the last straw for Castiel. He dives forward, capturing Dean’s lips with his own, left hand moving up to cup the back of his head, his right arm wrapping around his hips to pull him even closer. Castiel’s lips are soft and rough and warm and _wet_. It’s not much of a kiss, just a small press of lip to lip, but it’s more than enough to send a violent jolt of delight racing through Dean’s body. Castiel groans low in his throat, and Dean moans softly in response, melting against him, parting his lips and letting Castiel slide his tongue into his mouth for a brief lick. Castiel pulls back too soon, eyes gleaming with something that makes Dean’s thighs tremble.

He moves back in for another kiss, and this time, Dean slides his fingers into Castiel’s hair and tries to keep him in place. Need and want and lust curl in Dean’s belly, his cock twitching where it’s trapped in the panties. Castiel’s right arm pulls away from his hips, and his hand dips down between Dean’s thighs. His fingers graze over his inner thighs teasingly, moving to brush over his clothed cock. Dean’s breath hitches and he pulls away from the kiss, grinding down into his hand.

“Cas-” he whispers, dropping his head, forehead resting on Castiel’s shoulder. The older man hums in response, moving his hand away from Dean’s panties, curling both hands around the sides of his thighs again. He strokes up and down his legs, fingers sure against him. Dean feels a suddenly overwhelming amount of desperation and embarrassment course through his body, his stomach tightening into a knot. He’s not sure why he’s embarrassed but he is and he doesn’t like it. He lets out a slow breath, closing his eyes.

Castiel doesn’t say anything from below him, quiet and annoyingly calm. He nudges Dean back after a moment, he moves willingly, leaning back and sitting up straight. Dean spreads his legs apart a little more, resting his ass on Castiel’s thighs, letting him hold his weight. His hands slide down to Castiel’s chest, fingers wrapping loosely around the crooked tie against his shirt.

“Dean.”

“Yes?” he replies, staring pointedly at Castiel’s tie. It’s a nice tie, he likes it. It’s a dark blue, similar to Castiel’s intense eyes. It’s thin and the knot at the top is messy. It feels almost silky soft in his hands but he knows it’s not silk or satin; he knows exactly what those feel like.

Castiel’s hands slide up his legs again, going under the skirt, gripping just below his hips. “Look at me,” he says, voice low and coaxing. Dean clenches his jaw, stubbornly continuing to keep his gaze down. “ _Dean._ ” He doesn’t want to, but something steely and firm creeps into Castiel’s voice, and Dean can’t help but feel compelled to lift his eyes to gaze at the other man from below his lashes.

There’s a sharpness to Castiel’s eyes, but his expression seems open and genuinely kind. Dean feels uncharacteristically shy under his gaze, and can’t help but duck his head completely, his eyes dropping down again. It’s comical to think that not even ten minutes ago he was striding into the room and crawling into Castiel’s lap, trying to elicit a response by teasing him.

Dean’s done all of this before, pretended to be shy, to be confident, and _sultry_ while with clients. However, Castiel isn’t a client and it’s making him nervous now, and he doesn’t know how to respond to that. He hasn’t had sex for the fun of it in… well, since he was seventeen.

Castiel lifts his right hand, cupping Dean’s jaw, thumb smoothing over his warm and, no doubt, rosy cheekbone. Dean tucks his face in Castiel’s neck just to escape his hand. He hesitates a moment, then nuzzles at the skin at the top of his collar, sliding his hands up. He undoes the second button, then the third, and loosens his tie more. He lowers his mouth further, kissing and licking at his now visible collarbones and chest.

Castiel hums low in his chest, and relaxes further into the couch, tilting his head back to give Dean more access to his neck. Dean moves back up, sucking a barely-there mark into his Adam’s apple. Castiel’s lips part, his jaw slackening, and he moans softly. He smooths down Dean’s skirt and loosely wraps his arms around his hips, hands pressed just above Dean’s ass cheeks.

Dean lifts his hands, carding them through Castiel’s hair. He kisses his way up his throat, the underside of his chin and across his jaw, up over his stubbly left cheek. Castiel’s eyes are closed, and a small smile plays on the corners of his lips. Dean directs his gaze to his hair, shuddering almost violently when he sees the grey blending in with dark brown. He’s not sure why exactly, but he’s getting hornier just staring at the most prominent evidence of their age difference.

Dean lowers his head again, nibbling at the older man’s jaw. Castiel’s hands move away from Dean’s lower back. Dean huffs against his neck but keeps nuzzling and mouthing at his stubbly skin. One of Castiel’s hands lands firmly against his backside in the form of a smack, forcing a startled noise from Dean’s throat and making him tense up. Castiel, the bastard, chuckles darkly at him, squeezing his right ass cheek through his clothes. “Ass,” he mumbles into the hollow at the base of Castiel’s throat.

His other hand smacks his left ass cheek, pulling a whimper from Dean. “What was that?” Castiel asks roughly, lowly. Dean’s eyes fall shut.

“I said you’re an ass,” he says, rolling his eyes behind his closed lids. Castiel’s right hand moves away, but it’s quick to return, slapping against his ass with a dull noise, and a harsh sting of pain. Dean hisses softly. “ _Asshole_.” Castiel’s left hand moves to grip his right hip, and his right hand peppers several firm smacks against his backside. “Aw, fuck,” Dean whines, squirming and trying to move away. His movements make Castiel wrap his left arm around his waist tightly.

“Would you like to try that again, boy?” Castiel asks, lips suddenly pressed against Dean’s ear. He shudders and wiggles around a little more, his cock twitching where it’s trapped in his panties.

“You’re an ass- _Ah!_ -hole,” he says, stumbling over the last word as Castiel smacks him again. Dean presses his face into Castiel’s shoulder, heart pounding, back arching. Castiel chuckles again, that same ominous-like laugh from before that has Dean’s thighs trembling. Castiel flips his little skirt up and yanks his panties down, dropping hard, unforgiving smacks to his unprotected ass. “Casti- _Cas_ ,” he whines, toes curling, fingers gripping Castiel’s dress shirt.

Castiel rests his warm hand against his throbbing ass. Dean pants quietly into his shirt, his cock pulsing traitorously in his panties. “Are you a naughty boy, Dean?” Castiel says, sounding like both smooth honey and harsh gravel. Dean’s stomach clenches tightly at his words, and he shakes his head quickly. “You want to be my good boy, don’t you, Dean?” Shivering, he nods. “I’ll give you one more chance to be my good boy,” Castiel continues, pausing only briefly before opening his mouth to continue.

Dean takes the opportunity to speak, cutting whatever Castiel was going to say off. “I’m sorry,” he says, slowly pulling back, eyes opening. His eyes lock on the grey hairs at Castiel’s temples, and his heart pounds in his chest, his blood rushing in his ears. “I’m sorry, _daddy_.” Castiel curses loudly and suddenly Dean’s on his back sideways on the couch. Castiel presses against him from hip to shoulder, his lips descending on Dean’s with unexpected desperation.

“So fucking good,” Castiel mumbles, pulling away from the wet, messy kiss to mouth at Dean’s neck. Dean shudders and arches his back, rolling his hips up and groaning when his cock rubs against Castiel’s through the layers of their clothes. Right now, he can only imagine how good it would feel if there were no clothes between them. “ _Gorgeous_.”

“ _Daddy_ ,” he gasps, yanking Castiel’s shirt out of his pants, sliding his hands underneath to touch his smooth skin. Castiel curses again, his cock noticeably twitching against Dean. He can’t help the breathy laugh that escapes him. “You like it when I call you daddy, Cas?”

“Clearly,” Castiel begins, hand sneaking between their bodies to cup and squeeze at Dean’s crotch. “And you like it as well.” Castiel’s hand disappears under his skirt, and deftly slips into his panties to wrap around his bare cock.

“O-oh,” Dean whines. “Daddy, _please_.”

“I swear you’ll be the death of me,” Castiel says, breathless against his neck. Castiel pulls away from Dean, sitting up on his knees. He stares down at him, eyes dark and full of promise, hands easily and quickly opening the button and zipper on his pants. Dean drops his eyes only when Castiel reaches in his slacks and pulls his erect cock out, licking his lips when he sees how thick and long he is.

Castiel drops down on top of him again, bracing his body with his left forearm, immediately moving to mouth wetly at Dean’s throat. Dean stays still as he lines their cocks up, wrapping his hand around both of them. Dean fumbling reaches his hand down to help, putting his hand over top Castiel’s. The angle is a little awkward for his arm, but he quickly forgets everything when Castiel starts moving his hips, a slow but steady movement.

“Oh, fuck, daddy,” he moans.

“You like that, baby boy?” Castiel doesn’t even give him a chance to reply, lifting his head and capturing his lips in a heated kiss. It’s more tongue and teeth, and it sends jolts of pleasure through Dean’s entire body, his toes curling with the intensity of the feeling. Dean keens quietly, and falls completely pliant beneath him.

Castiel sits up a little, stilling the movement of his hips, and starting to jerk both of them off with his hand. He twists just right at the head of their cocks, and Dean’s coming humiliatingly quickly, crying out and bucking his hips, cock pulsing and leaking out thick globs of come all over his maid uniform. Castiel is up on his knees immediately after again, jerking his cock quick and dirty, staring down at Dean with a lusty, wondering gaze.

“Daddy,” Dean starts, weakly moving up to brace his upper body on his forearms. “You gonna come on me, daddy? Mark me up as yours?” Castiel groans, eyebrows furrowing a little. Dean watches him for several moments, licking his lips. “Want you to, daddy, please. Wanna know that I belong to you-” Castiel curses and moans at the same time, hips jerking unevenly as he comes messily all over Dean’s spent cock and balls. “Fuck, daddy,” he whimpers.

Castiel leans forward, holding himself up with his left hand, still stroking his cock. Dean blinks up at him, grinning shyly. “As I told you earlier,” Castiel says, “you are _sinful_.” Dean can’t help the laughter that bubbles forth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope u liked that!!! kudo and comment please <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warning: This chapter contains discussions of past underage abuse.**

Two days later, they’ve already fallen into a routine.

Dean is given free rein of the house. There are two rooms that are under lock and key, however. What Dean assumes as Castiel’s office on the second floor, and the basement. Curiosity eats at him, but he doesn’t voice his wonders. He ignores them and does what he was hired to; he cleans two rooms a day, organizing and dusting and arranging.

Cooking for Castiel is hard. He’s unsure what he really likes because all Castiel told him when he asked was that the only thing he absolutely hated, which are mushrooms. The first thing Dean decides to make are authentic cheeseburgers and homemade onion rings. He makes everything early in the day, then keeps it all ready for later. Castiel comes home - _home!_ \- just after six, from what he can tell, so Dean starts cooking at a quarter to six.

Castiel walks in the door just as he’s setting down a plate of onion rings. “Dean?” he calls, walking into the kitchen and then the dining room where Dean’s standing. He freezes mid-step, staring at the table with wide eyes. Dean clenches his jaw, wondering if he hates burgers too, or maybe onion rings? Fuck, he should have- “Are- Did you make cheeseburgers?” Castiel asks, reaching up to loosen his tie and unbutton his collar.

“Yes?”

Castiel finally turns his eyes away from the food, locking them on Dean’s face. He strides forward, crossing the distance between them in just three steps. He grabs Dean’s face in his hands and kisses him deeply, humming low in his chest. “I love cheeseburgers,” he says finally when he pulls away from Dean, both of them out of breath.

“Yeah?”

“ _Yes_.” Castiel lets go of Dean and walks back into the kitchen, washing his hands in the sink, drying them with a tea towel. He drops down into the seat at the head of the table when he comes back, looking all kinds of eager. Dean grins and sits own to his right, grabbing some onion rings while Castiel starts assembling his burger how he likes it. Dean’s just putting the top on his burger when Castiel takes a bite, a loud, enticing moan escaping from around the food in his mouth.

Dean stares at him, unable to keep the grin off his face. Castiel glances at him as he takes another bite barely a second after he swallows the first. He doesn’t look at all embarrassed, eyes gleaming with unchecked happiness. Dean’s belly flutters and he drops his eyes, picking up his own burger and digging in.

Castiel finishes before him, and just sits there sipping from his carbonated drink, speaking to Dean as he finishes his food, watching him. He tells Dean about his day, how tiring and annoying it was hunting down a lost document for one of his client’s. Small things, like the traffic accident on 3rd, and the new coffee shop he noticed on 10th. It should be daunting to be watched while you’re eating, but weirdly enough Dean feels like he’s being given attention he didn’t know he craved.

Castiel tries to help him clean up even though Dean can see he’s tired. He kicks him off into the living room, and finishes putting away any leftover food and cleaning the meager dishes left. Dean shuffles into the living room when he’s done.

Castiel tugs at his wrist and pulls Dean down to sit pressed up against his side. Dean snatches the blanket off the back of the sofa, ignoring the stupidly nervous warmth on his cheeks as he covers them both. “Thank you,” Castiel says, pressing a small kiss to the top of his head, squeezing Dean closer momentarily with the arm he has wrapped around his shoulders.

Dean squirms until he’s turned a little to the left, pressing more of his back against Castiel’s side. He glances down at the hand now hovering over his chest, grasping Castiel’s fingers and staring at the tattoo lines on his forearm. “Who’s Anna?” The question escapes his mouth before he can even register it. They both tense up, Castiel inhaling sharply from behind him. Dean can just imagine the blank expression taking place on his face. “I’m sorry-”

“No, it’s-” Castiel clears his throat. There’s a dead silence for a few minutes, then Castiel shifts and wraps his other arm around Dean. It seems like an awkward position for him, but Dean doesn’t say anything. Castiel’s chin drops on his left shoulder, and he tucks his nose against his hair. “Anna-” His voice is thick with sadness. Castiel clears his throat again. “Anna was my older sister.”

“Oh,” Dean mumbles. Castiel shifts a little more, bringing his leg up on the sofa, bending it at the knee, shin pressing into Dean’s ass. He pulls Dean closer, audibly breathing in his scent and shivering from behind him. “You don’t have to-” Castiel presses his hands lightly into Dean’s sides, so he shuts up and lets him speak. It takes a long while before Castiel can gather the strength to talk.

“She was eight years older than me, but that never deterred her from including me in everything. She was kind and considerate, and willful. I-I didn’t- I didn’t realize until my seventh birthday, but Anna was protecting me from a lot of pa- a lot of things.” Castiel pauses, letting out a shuddering hot breath against Dean’s neck. “My… birthday present that year, was being thrown in the basement with Anna… and a dozen men.” The implications behind his words has Dean’s stomach turning violently with disgust. Castiel’s grip tightens on Dean to just shy of painful. “She tried to protect me from them, and in return, they- they beat her with their belts. She-” Castiel swallows. “She... passed away exactly a week later. And her efforts were for nothing because they still-”

A choked noise escapes Castiel’s throat, and Dean feels wetness on his neck. “Oh, Cas,” he whispers, pushing the blanket off, pulling away and turning around to face Castiel. He straddles his legs and wraps his arms around him tightly, cradling the back of his head, pressing his face into his shirt. Dean presses kisses to the side of his head, nuzzling his nose against his hair, trying to comfort him. Castiel doesn’t make anymore noises, but his shoulders shake and Dean’s shirt dampens. “I’m so sorry, Cas.” In response to his words, Castiel wraps his arms around him and holds him as close as he can.

They sit there quietly for a long while.

* * *

Dean wakes up in Castiel’s bed. He doesn’t remember falling asleep, or moving from Castiel’s lap, but apparently he did. He turns over onto his back, reaching to the other side of the bed for Castiel. Nothing. He turns his head, frowning at the empty spot beside him. He climbs out of bed, finding that he’s dressed in nothing but his boxer-briefs.

He heads downstairs, wondering if Castiel is in the living room or kitchen. He doesn’t find him anywhere on the first floor, but his things are still by the door so Dean heads back upstairs and hesitantly walks over to his office door. He doesn’t hear anything from inside, he carefully tries to open the door. To his surprise, the handle turns and the door starts to move inwards. Dean pushes it open more and peeks his head in.

It’s spacious and stylish, the only light coming from a small lamp. Castiel is sitting behind his desk, desktop computer turned off, laptop open in front of him, folders open beside him. There’s a pair of rectangular black glasses perched on his nose, and he’s resting his right cheek on his hand, eyes closed in sleep. Dean steps deeper into the room, shuffling silently over to him. He closes his laptop and folders, setting them to the side for him to take care of later.

Dean lifts himself up to sit in the middle of the desk, slowly running his hand through Castiel’s soft hair. Castiel jolts, his chair rolling backwards as he stands. “Dean,” he says, clearing his throat. He pulls his glasses off, rubbing his face, then running a hand through his hair. “What are you doing in here?”

“You weren’t there when I woke up,” he replies, watching Castiel sit down again and roll the chair closer. He keeps a respectable distance, which just makes Dean frown. He reaches his foot out and drags him closer, bringing him between his legs. “Did you sleep?” Castiel nods, but Dean can just tell that he probably only got an hour of sleep - or maybe less - by the darkness under his eyes.

Dean glances around the room, spotting a clock above the door. Just after four in the morning. “Come back to bed?” he asks, holding his hand out to Castiel with a hopeful smile. Castiel clenches his jaw, staring at his hand for a few minutes. “Cas?”

“Yes, let’s go,” he says, standing up. He lifts his eyes from Dean’s outstretched hand to his eyes, and then turns and walks around the desk, heading out of the room. Dean drops his hand with a frown and hops off the desk, padding after him. Castiel closes the door once Dean steps out, locking it with a key Dean didn’t see him take.

Dean feels a little awkward now, shuffling after Castiel into the bedroom. Neither of them say anything as they crawl into the bed, a foot of distance between them. Dean hesitantly rolls closer and curls up against Castiel’s side, pressing a tiny kiss to his shoulder.

Castiel doesn’t respond.

* * *

Dean wakes a few hours later to an empty bed, again. He sighs and washes up in the bathroom before heading downstairs into the kitchen for some breakfast. To his surprise, Castiel stands just to the right of the stove, fixing himself a cup of tea. “Morning, Cas,” he says.

“Good morning,” Cas says over his shoulder. He turns and sets the mug on the island, lifting his head to smile at Dean. “Did you sleep well?” he continues, walking around the island towards Dean. He reaches out to grasp Dean’s face, leaning his head forward, clearly intending to kiss him. But Dean steps back with a confused expression. He’s completely different from earlier, and he’s unsure if he’s just pretending - probably - or has put the moment behind him for now.

Castiel’s expression immediately melts into a blank one, his eyes cold and hard, hands falling to his sides. “I see,” he says, stepping back. “Do I disgust you now?”

“What? No. I-” Dean immediately reaches for him, surprised that he’d even think that. Castiel steps back, picking up his mug from the island. “Cas-”

“I’ll be in my office,” Castiel mumbles, staring down at his mug. He ignores Dean as he tries to reach for him, walking out of the room and back upstairs.

“Cas!” Dean calls after him, huffing quietly when he gets no answer. Fuck. He hadn’t meant to make Castiel feel bad. He paces the floor for several minutes before deciding to make him breakfast. He cooks eggs and toasts bread and fries bacon, placing it all on a plate and taking it upstairs to his office. He knocks hesitantly, listening closely and hearing the familiar tapping of a keyboard.

The typing pauses, and Castiel sighs. “Come in.” Dean opens the door and shuffles inside, kicking it shut behind him. He sets the plate on the desk and plops down in Castiel’s lap, wrapping his arms around his neck.

“I’m sorry,” he says, playing with the short strands of hair at Castiel’s nape. “It’s not that you disgust me, Cas, it’s just that you didn’t even want to be near me this morning and then you came and tried to kiss me earlier and I was confused and-”

Castiel gently presses his index finger against his lips, effectively shutting him up. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. I’m sorry, Dean,” he says, sighing again. “I’ve been- I-” Castiel struggles for words. “I-”

“I only ever told one person this,” Dean interrupts, his heart pounding quickly in his chest. Castiel tenses beside him, his arms coming up to wrap around him tightly. “But my dad had this friend.... Alastair,” he continues, dropping his head to rest on Castiel’s shoulder. He closes his eyes, shuddering as he remembers the man’s nasally voice and cruel eyes.

“He would come over sometimes when my dad was home, and they’d sit and talk about dumb shit that I don’t even remember.” Dean lets out a heavy breath. “But I- I remember opening the door one day, around the time I was fourteen, and seeing him standing there. My dad wasn’t home, and I told him as much, but he didn’t seem to mind, saying things like he’ll wait, he has me for company, and he doesn’t care.”

“Oh, baby boy,” Castiel mumbles, sounding so sad it physically hurts in Dean’s chest for a moment.

“So I sat with him, because I didn’t know any better. He took advantage of me, in a lot of ways. He-” Dean pauses, throat tight and dry. He swallows thickly. “He had this knife. It was a mean looking thing, with a big wooden handle. He managed to pin me to the ground this one time, and he- he fuck- he fucked me with the handle, kept saying he would prefer to use the sharp end. I remember passing out, and waking up to my dad’s face above me. He was drunk at the time, and told me to get the fuck up and- I dunno, I don’t remember that part very well, actually.”

Dean feels his eyes stinging as he remembers that moment. He’d been so scared and helpless, sobbing pathetically into the floor as Alastair took his damn virginity with a stupid fucking knife. “He used his dick after that, two more times. I didn’t know what to do. I- I didn’t think I could tell anyone, ask for help. But... I remember my uncle Bobby coming down for a visit, arriving about an hour after Alastair left the third time he- he vi- viola-.” Dean clears his throat. “Bobby kept demanding to know why my eyes were red and I was limping, so I told him about that fucker.

“Bobby never said a word to me after I told him, and I remember being scared he was going to tell my dad, or- or- God, I dunno. He stayed with us just until the next morning, and then he left with only a note in the kitchen for us to read. I don’t know what happened, but I never saw Alastair after that, and Bobby was his same old grumpy self when I saw him again. He never said a word to me about that bastard the next time I saw him. I don’t know what would have happened if I didn’t tell Bobby, and I- Fuck, Cas. I never wanna know.”

Castiel cups his jaw and tilts his head back, kissing him sweetly, gently on the cheek. Dean holds in a whimper at the tenderness, feeling ashamed for speaking about Alastair. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he says. “You didn’t deserve that.”

“You didn’t deserve what happened to you either, Cas,” he says in return. Castiel doesn’t reply. They sit there, silent and thoughtful, taking comfort from past memories in each other's arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! comments and kudos are much appreciated <3


	7. Chapter 7

Their confessions have brought them closer. Castiel is much more attentive to him, casually dropping whispers of praise, petting his hair sweetly and wrapping him in his arms. Dean tries to reciprocate his touch the best he can, and he thinks he’s succeeding if the relaxed smile always on Castiel’s face, and the contentment generally shining in his eyes is anything to go by. He feels happier than he’s ever been in his entire life, and he just knows he’s getting addicted to the feeling. He’s wondering though, is there another shoe to drop, or is this everything? He hopes it’s everything.

Dean hears the door close from downstairs and stands up, putting his book down. He stretches with his arms in the air, and yawns softly, the back of his hand covering his mouth. He opens Castiel’s - _their?_ \- bedroom door and heads downstairs, walking into the family room to see Castiel tossing his coat and blazer over the back of the sofa and tugging at his tie; he gives up after a moment. He glances at Dean and smiles tiredly, dropping down unceremoniously to the sofa with a grunt. “Hello, Dean,” he finally says, tilting his head to look over at him.

“Hey,” he says, slowly shuffling into the room. He walks closer to Castiel and sits down sideways in his lap, resting against his chest, his face tucked into the older man’s neck. “How are you?”

“Tired,” Castiel mumbles to him, wrapping his arms around Dean. “You? What did you do today?”

“I read books,” Dean says, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. He feels useless in all honesty, and he wishes he was out there doing some work too. Okay, yeah, sure, he cleans the house for Castiel, and cooks for him, and gets paid for it, but he feels a little pathetic. Though, at the same time, he’s grateful that Castiel is letting him bum off of him and taking care of his sorry ass and he likes being cared for. He likes being someone that Castiel looks forward to coming home to. He startles a little when Castiel lifts his hand and cups his cheek, thumb smoothing over his warm cheekbones.

“What did you read?”

“Vonnegut,” he says, shrugging. “Cat’s Cradle.”

“A classic,” Castiel says simply.

“What about you? What did you do?” Dean asks hesitantly. Castiel hums quietly and smiles blandly, gazing down at Dean’s lips, still rubbing his thumb over his cheek.

“Paperwork,” he says, chuckling. “You would think the life of a fixer would be more exciting.”

“You’re plenty exciting,” Dean says, lifting his head and dropping a kiss to Castiel’s lower jaw. Castiel narrows his eyes a little and he opens his mouth like he’s about to protest. Dean speaks before he can, “Well, at least you are to me.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Castiel says, leaning closer to drop a small peck on his lips. That’s followed by a longer peck, and then a full blown kiss that leaves them both breathless and aroused. “I have something for you.”

“Yeah?” Dean mumbles, nipping at Castiel’s bottom lip. Castiel hums in response and gently nudges him back. “Cas-”

“Hush,” Castiel laughs, a grin appearing on his face. Castiel reaches for his coat, tugging it closer and digging into the inner breast pocket. He pulls out a flat and rectangular white box with a pretty red bow holding it together. “Here,” he says, settling back, handing the box to Dean.

Dean takes the box hesitantly, studying the box for a minute, wondering what it could be. “You didn’t have to get me anything, Cas,” he tries, glancing at Castiel’s face. Castiel’s left eyebrow quirks upwards in response. Dean drops his eyes to the box again, an eager feeling is slowly building up inside of him the longer he looks at it. He tugs on the bow, watching it slide apart and flutter down into his lap.

“It’s black,” Castiel says as he tugs the box open. “I can get you a different color if you don’t like it.”

“No- Ah, I like black,” Dean mumbles, dropping the lid to his lap and moving aside the see-through white wrapping tissue paper. Dean’s eyes widen when he sees the item inside. He sits up, sliding off of Castiel’s lap to sit beside him, setting the lid and ribbon on the coffee table. “Cas- I- You- You didn’t have to get me a _phone-_ ”

“Of course I did,” Castiel says, sitting forward. “Everyone should have a good phone.”

“I have a good phone-”

“That can access the internet,” Castiel adds, a little amused. “Do you like it?”

“Of course I like it, Cas!” Dean says, slowly picking the phone up, the shiny black screen glaring his reflection back at him. “What kind of- of a phone is it?”

“Samsung Galaxy S8 Plus,” Castile replies. “In a midnight black, as they say. I was going to get you the pink but-” Dean shoves Castiel, which just makes him laugh. “I’m kidding.”

“Ass-” he mumbles. Dean sets the phone down and pushes Castiel to sit back against the sofa. He crawls back into his lap and pulls him in for a deep kiss. “Thank you, daddy, honestly.” Castiel groans softly into his mouth. “I love it.”

“Good,” Castiel says, mouthing his jaw briefly. Dean tugs him back up for a mouth kiss, sliding his tongue into Castiel’s mouth and humming. “Mm… So, what’s for dinner?” Castiel asks, sounding rougher after their kisses.

“Me,” Dean answers, grinning as Castiel chuckles at him.

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Well, then,” Castiel begins, nudging Dean to lay back so his body is exposed and open across Castiel’s lap. “I should start eating then, shouldn’t I?” Dean lifts his head, flushing as he sees a dark hunger flash across Castiel’s gaze. Castiel’s lips turn upwards at the corners as his hands slide under Dean’s AC/DC t-shirt, smoothing over his warm skin.

He drops his head down to the cushion below, humming quietly and arching his back, wiggling his ass between Castiel’s thighs. Castiel’s hands drift downwards, squeezing and rubbing at his jean-covered inner thighs and crotch. Dean lets out a soft breath, legs falling apart easily, eyes closing shut as Castiel slowly, tenderly heightens the earlier feelings of arousal in his body.

Castiel deftly undoes the button on his jeans with one hand, tugging the zipper down and pulling his pants to his knees. Dean’s shirt rides up to his chest as he wiggles out of his underwear, pushing it down to his knees too. He’s exposed, naked, and splayed across Castiel’s lap; _vulnerable_.

Castiel groans quietly, leaning back and taking Dean in with hooded eyes. Dean rolls off his lap, landing in a crouch on the floor. He glances up at Castiel, taking in his frown with a grin. “Come on, daddy,” he says, standing, tugging his underwear and pants up. “Let’s eat some food.” He spins on his heels and heads for the entrance of the room.

He yelps when Castiel grabs him from behind, yanking him back against his firm chest with a growl. “You’re such a tease,” Castiel says, mouthing at his neck, sucking on his skin. Dean shivers, his cock throbbing as he does.

“But you like it when I tease you, don’t you, daddy?” Dean says, tilting his head back.

“No,” Castiel growls softly. “It makes me want to spank you.” Dean shivers.

“Then spank me after dinner, daddy,” he says, spinning around to face Castiel, winking at him. “I’m hungry.” He pulls away and walks into the kitchen, listening closely as Castiel trails after him.

Castiel comes up behind him as he’s dishing out spaghetti. “Once dinner is over, you’re fair game, and I’m going to spank your sweet little ass until it’s _red_.” Dean swallows thickly, loudly. He’s not so sure he likes the sound of that, and yet his dick pulses between his legs. Dean steps to the side, ladling pasta sauce over his spaghetti.

They sit down at the dinner table, and Dean takes his sweet time eating his food. He still has about half of the food left on his plate when Castiel finishes eating. He squirms uncomfortably as Castiel leans back and relaxes, casually sipping his glass of juice. “Something wrong, Dean?” Castiel asks. Dean glances at him, clenching his hand tighter around the fork in his hand when he sees amusement shining in Castiel’s eyes. “Not feeling too hungry, are you? That’s okay. You can finish it later.”

Castiel pushes his chair back and stands, stepping around the side of the table. Anxiety curls in Dean’s belly as he lets Castiel take his plate into the kitchen. He sits there for several minutes, listening to Castiel bustle around in the kitchen, putting any leftover food away and cleaning their plates, the pots.

Castiel steps up behind him, placing his hands on Dean’s shoulders, squeezing lightly. He leans down, pressing his lips against Dean’s ear. “Shall we go upstairs?” he says, hands sliding down Dean’s arms.

“Cas, I-”

Castiel’s hands tighten briefly around his biceps. “If you don’t want this, tell me,” he says immediately.

“I do!”

“Then?”

“I’m kind of… nervous.”

“I won’t do anything you don’t want, Dean,” Castiel says, letting go of him and straightening his back. He steps to the side of Dean, leaning against the table, looking down at him. “I hope you know that if at any moment you don’t want me to do something, you can tell me to stop, Dean. I won’t take advantage of you.” For a moment, Dean is sent back to remembering both of their traumatic pasts.

“I know,” he says, voice thick. He clears his throat and shakes his head, pushing those thoughts away. “I want you to spank me, daddy. I want you to make me be good.”

Castiel groans softly and tugs him up to his feet, pulling him close, mouthing at his jawline. “You are good. Always,” he whispers. “So wonderful for me, baby.” Dean grabs his wrist and steps away from him, leading him out of the room and towards the stairs. Castiel laughs softly and lets himself be dragged along, obediently following after Dean into their now shared bedroom.

Dean lets go of his wrist and closes the door after him. He grabs Castiel’s shoulders and walks him back towards the bed, pushing him down to sit at the end. Castiel shuffles backward until his knees are tucked against the edge of the bed, folding his hands together in his lap and looking up at Dean with warm amusement.

“I’m- Just-”

“Take your time,” Castiel says, expression softening. Dean nods once, and shuffles into the bathroom, shutting the door. He leans against the door for a moment, staring across the small room to the bathroom entrance of the walk-in closet. There’s also an entrance point in the bedroom to the side of the bathroom door. He pushes off the door and takes a leak, then quickly cleans himself up a little.

After a moment of hesitation, he heads into the closet, rummaging around where he put his things to find what he’s looking for. He puts it on and then heads out of the bathroom. Castiel is still sitting where he left him, staring down at his hands, idly picking at the corners of his nails. He looks up from his hands when Dean steps out of the bathroom, and his eyes widen, lips parting.

“I think these make my ass look pretty good, don’t you?” Dean asks with a teasing smile, turning to the side and arching his back. He looks over his shoulder at his own ass, then back at Castiel with a raised eyebrow. He took off his other clothes, and he’s only wearing a pair of tight green panties.

“Yes, they- They make your ass look absolutely delectable,” Castiel says, licking his lips. “Come here, baby.” Castiel lifts his right hand and crooks his finger at him, beckoning him over. Dean walks over to him slowly, moving his hips exaggeratedly from side to side, feeling pleased as Castiel’s eyes drop to watch his hips move.

He stops in front of Castiel, who leans back a little and spreads his thighs apart more. Dean slowly lays over Castiel’s left knee, wiggling around until he’s comfortable. Castiel’s hand descends on his ass gently, his fingers pressing into his cheeks, squeezing every so often. He’s warming his skin, getting the blood flowing, readying him for a spanking.

“Fuck, you are gorgeous,” Castiel says, sounding almost awed; punctuating each word with a slap. “Just look at this plump little ass,” he continues, lightly slapping each cheek through his panties. Dean lets out a soft breath, a shiver racing up and down his spine. “Sinful, utterly sinful.” Castiel tugs his panties to just below his ass, and grabs his left ass cheek in his hand, squeezing tightly, nails digging into his skin. Dean squirms and groans lowly, wiggling his hips. Castiel does the same to his other ass cheek, gently smacking each one after. He hits him again after that, dragging his nails over his bare ass.

“Cas,” he breathes, eyes falling shut. Castiel spanks him slow and unrelentingly, peppering his ass with a mix of hard and soft smacks. Dean slumps against his leg and the bed and takes it, eyes watering with tears and cock embarrassingly hard and leaking against the older man’s thigh. It takes forever for him to stop. It’s more like he stops after forty solid smacks.

“There we are,” Castiel coos at him, his hot hand rubbing Dean’s equally hot ass. “Such a red little bottom, huh? I bet you’re quite sore, aren’t you, boy?” Dean whines. “Ah, my poor boy. Come here, I’ll make you feel better.” Castiel tugs him up, steadying Dean as he sways and stands unsteadily on his legs.

Dean’s unprepared for Castiel to suddenly swallow down his cock, and can’t help the soft cry that escapes his throat at the sensation. Either Castiel is a fucking natural or he’s had a lot of practice because he has absolutely no gag reflex and he knows just the right way to curl his tongue. Dean slowly fucks into his mouth, throwing his head back and moaning out his pleasure.

Castiel licks and sucks along his cock, mouthing at the base. He sucks his balls one at a time into his mouth, flicking his tongue at them and humming softly. “Daddy- Oh, fuck,-” Castiel pulls back, licking his way back up Dean’s cock to swallow him down to the root again. Dean whines and his legs start to tremble, and he grips at Castiel desperately, bending forward a little and coming into his mouth with a keening noise.

Castiel pops off his cock with a wet noise and tugs him into his arms, mindful of his ass. “There we go,” he whispers in Dean’s ear, sounding rougher, wet and hot. Dean groans and shivers, cock twitching feebly.

“Daddy,” he mumbles, voice raspy and thick. Dean feels unsteady and all he wants to do right now is curl up against Castiel and sleep, but Castiel didn’t even get to come yet and he feels guilty. He fumbling reaches down to touch his cock, humming when he feels his cock throb against his hand.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Castiel says quietly, nudging his hand away. “Let’s sleep.” Dean protests and tries to convince him to let Dean jerk him off, but quickly shuts up when Castiel leans back and fixes him with a sharp look. “On the bed.” Dean pouts and crawls off of his lap and onto the bed, plopping down flat on his face in the center.

Castiel laughs softly behind him and climbs on after him, pulling his panties off completely, rubbing some lotion gently on his ass. “Come on,” he says, pushing Dean up to his knees and pulling the sheets down. Dean immediately crawls into the bed, curling up and humming. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“‘Kay,” he mumbles, tucking his face into the side of Castiel’s pillow, head cushioned on his own. Castiel slips off the bed and heads for the bathroom. “Daddy-”

Castiel pauses in the doorway to the bathroom. “Yes, sweetheart?”

“Thank you for the gift, for-for t’night-” Dean says sleepily. “Thank you for everythin’- D’ddy- I- I- _Cas_.”

Castiel is quiet for several long seconds, and Dean’s almost asleep by the time he answers. “... You’re welcome, Dean,” he says softly, then disappears into the bathroom. By the time he gets back, Dean’s fast asleep.

In the morning, Dean wakes him up with a thorough, messy, teasing blowjob that makes him see stars when he comes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading guys! comment and kudo please <3


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello amigos pls dont murder me for not updating sooner tysm <3
> 
> also yall im dying bc i thought this was only gonna be 20k ish but ITS SO MUCH MORE HELP ME PLS

The phone is followed closely by a red and blue Nintendo Switch and a bunch of games to go along with it. It’s fancy and nice and makes Dean feel like a kid again to have a Nintendo gaming system. Much different than the first one he ever had, but also quite similar in some aspects.

Then, two weeks later, come the _panties_.

Dark red panties with black lace, green with black lace, lace, lace, lace, _lace_ ; even sheer lace. A bunch of differently colored thongs and g-strings, assorted booty shorts. There are even a few garter belts and stockings thrown in. Dean models each and every item for Cas, strutting around the house in nothing but his sexy clothes, grinding against his cock, his thigh, and leaving before Castiel can even do anything in response. And thoroughly enjoying it when Castiel finally gets him on his knees and makes Dean suck his cock down while he teases Dean’s own cock through the panties with his foot.

But the best thing about all of it - _about everything_ , Dean thinks, is Castiel doesn’t try to force him to do anything, and he doesn’t chastise Dean for small things or make him feel bad. He’s patient and careful, but firm and set in his own little way. And maybe that’s what makes Dean realize he’s rapidly falling in love with this quirky older man who is considerate and gentle and giving and sweet and strong; who makes Dean feel like he’s actually worth something.

* * *

Two days after that realization, Dean wakes up to Castiel speaking snappishly, hastily into a Bluetooth earpiece while packing clothing into a black suitcase. He rubs his eyes tiredly and sits up, watching him move around the room quick and fast and efficiently. He barely glances at Dean, too intent on putting neatly folded clothes in his case. “Well, finish it!” Castiel growls into the earpiece, tapping lightly on the back of it, disconnecting the call. “Hello, Dean,” he finally says, sounding tight and stiff.

Dean scoots over to his side of the bed and tugs Castiel to sit down when he gets close enough. Castiel shoots him an unamused look, lips pressed into a thin line. “What’s going on, Cas?” he asks, squeezing Castiel’s hand. “Did something happen?”

“Work,” Castiel says like that’ll explain everything. It doesn’t, not really, but Dean understands enough from his tone of voice that that’s all he’s going to get. And it’s enough, he supposes. Castiel does classified, dangerous work for bad, rich people; it’s better that he doesn’t know too much. “I’ll be leaving within the hour. I’m not sure when I’ll be back.” He hesitates now, standing up, fidgeting with a rolled up tie from his suitcase. “Could be hours, days… _weeks_.”

“Oh,” Dean mumbles.

“Yes.”

“Are you in… in trouble?”

“Not me,” Castiel says. “A client.” Castiel places his laptop and tablet and chargers and a couple burner phones inside the suitcase then closes it. “You can’t call or text me while I’m away, Dean,” Castiel says, staring down at the top of his suitcase. “If it’s an emergency and you need to reach me, go to my office and use the desktop in there. Open the browser, go to yahoo mail, log in to the saved email address. I’ll have the password changed to your full name later today. Just send an email to yourself with the word ‘Pie.’ I’ll call your phone as soon as I can. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good,” Castiel says, visibly relieved. He cups Dean’s face gently in his hands and kisses him on the lips chastely. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I need to go now.”

“Be safe,” Dean says. “... _Please_.” His stomach hurts at the thought of something happening to him.

“Always,” Castiel replies, winking. He lets go of his face and yanks his suitcase off the bed, picking up three suits in black covers by the hangers, holding them over his shoulder.

“See you soon,” he says, hopeful. Castiel hesitates, then nods sharply once and turns on his heel, heading for the open bedroom door. Dean listens as he skips down the steps and puts on his coat and shoes. He listens as the door opens and closes, and Castiel’s car rumbles to life outside, the garage door opening, closing.

Dean turns the lights off and curls up on Castiel’s side of the bed. He nuzzles his face into Castiel’s pillow, closing his eyes. An ache slowly builds in his chest, and he wishes he wasn’t so alone right now.

* * *

Dean doesn’t even know how much time passes, but he’s fairly certain it’s been over two weeks now. He hasn’t heard a damn thing from Castiel and he misses him so fucking much it’s ridiculous. As each day passes, he’s getting closer and closer to just using the email to get Castiel to call him so he can hear his voice again.

Just when he’s almost at the end of the line, someone knocks on the front door. Castiel doesn’t get visitors, Dean realized that quickly from the beginning. Most people don’t know where Castiel lives, and the people that do should know he’s not home right now. Dean is more than just a little skeptical of who is on the other side, so he peeks out the window to try and see who it is.

Two tall men in dark blue uniforms.

Oh, shit. They’re familiar, not because of who they are, but because of what they’re wearing. Police uniforms. Dean curses inwardly and undoes the locks on the door, knowing in the back of his head that these men could have easily stolen those uniforms and come to kill him. He keeps that in mind as he pulls the door open, plastering a fake smile on his face.

“Howdy, officers,” he says, leaning against the door jam. “What can I do for you?” He studies their clothes, weapons. Their stitched in name tags say Andrews and Hoffman.

“Is Castiel Novak here?” Hoffman asks, gruff and clearly wanting to be somewhere else. The two men look him over critically, glancing briefly at each other before returning their gazes to him.

“No, sorry,” Dean says, shrugging with his free shoulder. “Mr. Novak hired me as a housekeeper the day he left. Uhm, about a month ago? I haven’t seen him since. Did he- Did he do something wrong? Is he in trouble?”

“I see,” Andrews says, clearing his throat, glancing into the house from over Dean’s shoulder. “May we come in? Take a look around?”

“Do you have a warrant?” Dean asks, shooting them an easy grin.

Hoffman scoffs, and says, “Got something to hide, kid?” He looks suspicious now, squinting at Dean with a pissy little frown.

“No- I- I just-,” Dean makes sure to look nervous. “I’ve seen all these law shows and they all say that. Besides, not my house, so…” He shrugs again, an apologetic smile appearing. Hoffman wrinkles his nose. “Is there a reason you’re here, officers?”

Andrews opens his mouth, presumably to tell Dean why, but Hoffman slaps him on the back. “No, just checking in. Have a good afternoon, mister…?” Dean just smiles at him. Hoffman sneers a little and turns away, stomping down the porch steps and then down the front walk to his police car, Andrews hot on his heels.

Dean checks the area, finding nothing out of the ordinary, then slams the door shut and locks it tightly. He checks the windows, the side door, the back door, makes sure they’re all locked too. Two police officers showing up at the door in a nice neighborhood for no apparent reason is making all the alarm bells in Dean’s mind go off. Dean heads upstairs to Castiel’s office, slipping inside the unlocked room and closing the door, locking it.

He sits down behind Castiel’s desk, booting his computer up. It doesn’t take long for him to get on yahoo mail, find the saved email - SteveRexford1911. He types in his own name as the password, hitting enter and watching as the screen loads. The inbox is mostly empty save for a few random spam messages. Dean quickly composes an email to SteveRexford1911 with the word ‘Pie’ and sends it. He logs out of everything and shuts the computer down after.

And now, he waits.

* * *

Waiting takes less than half a day.

His cell rings late in the evening when he’s crawling into bed, a private number flashing up onto his screen as his phone vibrates. Dean hesitates, letting it ring a few times, then sits up in bed and slides the green answer button to the right. He holds the phone up to his ear, holding his breath, waiting. The person on the other end is silent for a minute, then says, “Dean?” It’s Castiel, sounding as sweet as ever with his rich, husky voice.

“Cas,” he says, the breath leaving him in a whoosh. He inhales sharply, running his hand through his hair.

“What’s wrong?” Castiel asks, sounding cool, professional. Dean’s stomach drops, and his heart clenches tightly in his chest for a brief moment. “Dean?”

“Yes- I- It’s uhm-” He tells him about the two officers stopping by and asking about him, wanting to look around the house, not letting them. Castiel is silent the whole time, thoughtful as he absorbs the information.

“Thank you, Dean. I’ll put someone on it right away. Give me a moment,” Castiel says. Dean hears a little shuffling, then absolutely nothing. He pulls the phone away from his ear, surprised and wondering if Castiel hung up on him, but finds that the call is still connected. He’s been put on hold or mute, then? Dean sighs and curls up under the sheets again, sleeping in the middle of the bed. He’s changed the sheets multiple times since Castiel left, and they no longer smell like him.

“-yes, yes, of course,” Castiel suddenly comes back on the line, talking to someone else. “Thank you, Benny,” he says. “Dean? Are you still there?”

“Yeah. I- I’m here,” he says quickly, licking his lips.

“A man is going to come over tomorrow with three dogs and teach you some commands for them. He’ll have greyish-brown hair, blue eyes,” Castiel says. “His name is Cain.”

“Okay,” Dean says. Three dogs. He wonders what kind of breeds. Does he really even need them? Is this matter that serious? Castiel is quiet again on the other end, but Dean hears him breathing softly this time, so he doesn’t check to see if the call is still connected again.

“Dean-” Castiel says gently, quietly. He sounds weary now, hesitant and lonely.

“Cas,” he mumbles, pretty sure that he sounds just the same. “Fuck, I miss you, Cas.”

“Yes- I- I miss you too, sweetheart,” Castiel replies, warm and tired. “How are you?”

“I’m okay,” Dean says, shrugging even though he knows Castiel isn’t here to see him. And, wow, doesn’t that just make the ache in his chest worse. “You?”

“Busy, tired,” Castiel says. “I’m- I’m hoping to be home next week.”

“Yeah?” Dean tries not to sound too excited, but he’s fairly certain he fails. Castiel chuckles, rich and fond.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Four to six days. I’ll call you when I land.” There’s a lull now, Dean unsure what to reply with. Land? Does that mean he’s not in the country right now? Damn.

“I don’t want this call to end but I don’t know what to say,” Dean admits finally.

“It’s okay,” Castiel says. “We can just stay on the line.” Castiel shuffles a little in the background, then a bed creaks loudly as he gets in it. Dean’s eyes sting as he listens to Castiel breathe quietly on the other side of the phone. It’s almost like he’s right there beside him, but if he turns to look, he’ll be met with nothing but air. And maybe that hurts even more. Dean falls asleep to the sound of Castiel’s breathing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! comment and kudo please <3


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YALL LEFT ME SO MANY COMMENTS IM IN LOVE WITH EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU LIKE HOLY SHIT but thank u so much omg im crying i love yall so much pls enjoy this mi amigos <3

Dean wakes up to a dead phone. He plugs it in to charge while he takes a shower and makes himself some breakfast. He’s just finished rinsing his plate and putting it on the rack to dry when the doorbell rings. He hesitates, drying his hands off, then heads to check who it is. He peeks out the window and sees a tall man with brown hair full of grey streaks.

He unlocks the door and pulls it open, shooting Cain a hesitant smile. “Hi,” he says, glancing down at the three big dogs sitting obediently at his feet. Cain studies him silently, sharp eyes taking him in from head to toe.

“Hello,” he says. “I am Cain.”

“Come on in,” he says, stepping to the side. Cain steps into the house, letting out a sharp whistle. The dogs immediately stand up and gracefully step into the house after him, sitting down several feet from the door. They’re not wearing leashes, but they do have collars on.

“So… You’re Dean,” he says as Dean closes the door.

“Yeah?” Has Castiel been talking about him? Cain makes a soft noise and doesn’t say anything, glancing around the house. Dean locks the door and shoves his hands into his pant pockets. “You want something to drink? Eat?”

“No, thank you,” Cain says. “Come. I’ll show you some commands for the pups.” Cain whistles again, and the dogs stand up and follow after him as he walks towards the family room. The dogs line up in front of the coffee table. Cain sits down on the sofa, and Dean sits about three feet away from him.

“His name is Teddy, he’s a German Shepherd and Wolf mix,” he says, pointing at the white and dirty grey colored dog closest to the door. Teddy perks up when he hears his name, his little eyes sharpening and locking on Cain. “She is Ghost, a Siberian Husky,” Cain points at the middle dog, mostly white with a few light greyish patches. Ghost tilts her head, her lips twitching apart to reveal her sharp, white teeth. “And that one is Shadow, he’s a Doberman Pinscher.” Shadow is a big black colored dog, and he actually looks thoughtful when he hears his name, his head tilting to the side curiously.

Teddy, Ghost, and Shadow. Cute names, scary dogs.

Dean stares at the dogs, hesitant. They’re not even looking at him, keeping their eyes on Cain, but he knows they’re much too aware of him. “They all respond to whistles, and commands in Dutch,” Cain explains, glancing at him. Dutch? Dean doesn’t know Dutch. “Individually, Teddy responds to Italian, Ghost responds to German, and Shadow responds to Russian.”

“Are you kidding me?” Dean says, ripping his eyes away from the dogs to shoot a glare at Cain. “How the hell am I supposed to control them?” Cain chuckles and pulls a folded paper from his pocket. He unfolds it and hands it to him. It’s four pages, each regarding a different language, with the commands and their meanings, and the pronunciations for each.

“Shall we get started?” Cain says, standing up with a slight smirk.

* * *

Cain is a fucking _bastard_.

He’s like a damn drill sergeant, hounding on Dean when he fumbles over the pronunciation of a word. The dogs lie there the whole time, looking thoroughly amused as they watch Dean fumble around with the words. Though by the end of the day, Dean’s got the Dutch commands down, and the whistles too. Cain leaves at eight in the evening, telling him he’ll be back tomorrow at eight in the morning.

Dean collapses on the couch, stretching his legs out over the surface with a soft groan. He hears a soft growl and freezes, tilting his head to the side slowly to stare at Teddy who is now standing right beside his head. He wonders if the dogs are going to eat him in his sleep tonight. Christ, he doesn’t want to die until he sees Castiel one more time.

“Uhm…” Dean swallows thickly. Teddy presses his cold, wet muzzle against Dean’s neck, breathing in his scent. He backs away a few seconds later, sitting down on his ass and staring at him with a sweet, innocent expression. “What?”

Teddy growls lowly again, but Dean doesn’t find it threatening. “Hungry?” he asks, then curses inwardly. What was the Dutch word for hungry, again? Teddy barks loudly though when he hears the word ‘hungry’ and starts panting, his tongue sticking out of his mouth. “You guys understand English, too, don’t you?” Dean says, gritting his teeth.

Ghost barks from her spot curled up beside Shadow. “Fuck sakes,” Dean mumbles, standing up. He shuffles over to where Cain left the big bag of food in the kitchen. He also brought three double bowl elevated stands for them, and they’re all shoved in the corner next to each other. Dean fills the three stainless steel bowls with a measured scoop of food and refills their water bowls. He puts the bag away and turns around, jumping a little when he sees the dogs followed him to the kitchen, and are now sitting patiently in the doorway.

“Eat,” he says, gesturing to the bowls. The dogs immediately stand up and pad over to the food, munching happily from the big bowls. Dean huffs and washes his hands, plopping down at a chair at the island and wondering what he should make to eat, listening as the dogs crunch their food. He puts together a quick sandwich, and plates some chips, shuffling into the family room to watch TV while he eats.

The dogs pad in when he’s halfway down his food. Ghost curls up against a wall, facing the direction of the door. Shadow sits down underneath the coffee table, also facing the door. And Teddy comes to stand beside Dean, tilting his head to the side, letting out a sweet little whine. Dean stares at him, chewing a chip. “Don’t think Cas would like it if I let you up here,” he says, watching Teddy perk up slightly at Castiel’s name.

Dean finishes his food, leaning forward to set his plate on the table. He glances at Teddy again, who is sitting on his back legs now, looking at Dean with a pleading expression. “Sorry, buddy,” he says, standing up. Dean turns the TV off, and grabs his plate, shuffling around Teddy and heading for the kitchen. He washes the dishes he made, dries everything on the rack and puts it away.

He checks all the doors and windows in the house, making sure they’re all closed and locked securely. The dogs follow him around the whole house, silent behind him and well out of his way. Dean shuffles upstairs to get ready for bed, glaring at the dogs as they follow him into the bedroom, sitting down at the foot of the bed.

He huffs and heads into the bathroom, shutting the door behind himself. He takes a leak quickly, washes his hands, his face, brushes his teeth. Dean changes into some clean pajama pants from the closet and then heads back into the bedroom, shutting the bathroom door behind himself. He leaves the bedroom door ajar, turns the lights off in the room, and crawls under the sheets, curling up in the middle of the bed.

One of the dogs grunt as they jump on the bed, shuffling up beside Dean and flopping down. It’s Teddy. He curls up beside him on top of the covers, stretching out on the bed and yawning. He's quickly followed by Shadow, who hesitantly, slowly comes up behind Dean, laying down like he’s waiting for Dean to shove him away.

Dean shuffles over onto his back, turning his head to look at him. He reaches out, letting Shadow sniff him, then pats his head gently. Ghost lets out a soft noise, then hops up onto the bed too, curling up at the foot, eyeing them from her position. “Night, guys,” he says. He lays there, listening as the dogs settle in until their comfortable, and Teddy and Shadow start to snore. He doesn’t feel as lonely with them around.

* * *

Castiel doesn’t come home after a week.

Dean keeps himself busy. He plays with the dogs, cleans the house until all he can smell are disinfectants, exercises, bakes too much and eats it all. Two weeks pass, and there’s still no Castiel. Dean takes to sleeping most of the day, just to pass the time. Teddy, Shadow, and Ghost are good company. They keep him sane, keep him warm. But he misses Castiel. He misses his warm body, he misses his voice, he misses his beautiful blue eyes, he misses his scent; he misses _Cas_.

It’s edging into the third week, and Dean’s about to fall asleep, curled up between Teddy and Ghost, Shadow keeping his feet warm, when he hears a noise. A door opens and closes loudly downstairs, and several unfamiliar male voices drift up the stairs and through the ajar bedroom door. Teddy and Shadow and Ghost are up on their feet in second, sliding off the bed silently and edging towards the door.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Dean whispers to them hastily. They don’t stop. “ ** _Wacht_** ,” he says in Dutch. They freeze by the door, glancing back at him once before backing away, surrounding the door in a loose circle several feet away. Dean scrambles out of bed, taking his gun from the nightstand, shoving the magazine into the bottom and unlocking the safety. He pulls the slide back, chambering a bullet and cocking the gun.

Dean slowly opens the door, pointing his gun outside and checking for anyone. The voices get louder now that the door is open. “Shadow,” he whispers, gesturing him to go. Shadow walks forward silently, and Dean follows behind him closely, keeping his eyes and ears open. He checks behind him for Teddy and Ghost when he doesn’t hear them and is surprised to see they’re right on his heels. He’s gotten so used to the clicking of the dog’s claws over the last few weeks that he’s shocked at how silent they are now.

Dean creeps down the stairs, Shadow guiding him towards where he smells the intruders. They’re in the living room. Dean clicks his tongue like Cain showed him, and Shadow slows, coming to a stop just around the corner from the living room. Dean presses himself against the wall, checking the area he can see and not finding anyone. He peeks slowly around the corner, and finds a bunch of men in suits, guns tucked into their waistbands, sitting on the sofa.

The one man that sticks out is _Castiel_.

Dean watches them, listening, wondering if they somehow forced Castiel to bring them here. No. They all know each other, he realizes quickly. “Jesus Christ,” he says, stepping around the corner. Everyone shuts up and all eyes turn to him. “Could have at least given me some warning.”

Castiel’s eyes lock on him immediately, and he looks relieved to see him. “And who is this?” one of the men asks, eyeing Dean up and down like a piece of meat. Dean winces inwardly, realizing abruptly that he’s only wearing a pair of dark blue boxer-briefs. Dean uncocks his gun and flicks the safety on, glancing down at Teddy as he comes to stand beside him.

“This is my housekeeper,” Castiel says in a monotone, leaning forward to pick up a glass of whisky from the coffee table. “There was no time to inform you we were coming.” Castiel is oddly formal, stiff, and Dean feels embarrassed. These guys are probably his co-workers or clients or whatever, and here Dean is making a fool of himself.

Ghost growls low in her chest, eyes locked on Castiel. “What’s wrong?” Dean asks, watching as she edges slowly into the room. She barks sharply and stalks into the room, coming right up to Castiel’s side. Dean watches as Castiel grins down at her and reaches his hand out, letting her sniff him. Ghost barks again and abruptly places her front paws in his lap, licking his face. Castiel lets out a warm chuckle and pushes her off, scratching behind her ear.

“Hello to you too, Ghost,” he says. “Shadow, Teddy.” The other two dogs race over to him eagerly, almost falling all over each other. They look so content as he scratches them all indulgently, letting them lick and sniff at him. “ ** _Blijven_** ,” Castiel tells them to _sit_ in Dutch without an accent, his voice smooth, the word flowing off his tongue.

Ghost curls up at his feet in front of him, and Shadow and Teddy sit on either side of his legs, looking at the other men in the room. “Cute dogs,” one of them says, watching them.

“Indeed,” Castiel replies, the smile slipping off his face as he addresses the man. “You may go.” It takes Dean a whole fifteen seconds to realize Castiel is speaking to him. He feels like he’s been stabbed in the gut, but he nods and spins on his heel, heading for the stairs. The voices pick up as he leaves, and he shuts himself in their master bedroom.

Moments after he closed the door, he hears scratching against it. He opens it again and finds Teddy followed him up here. Teddy jumps up on the bed and curls up as he closes the door again. Dean puts his gun in the nightstand drawer again and crawls under the sheets, curling up against Teddy. “Thanks for coming with me, Teddy,” he says, scratching gently behind his ear. Teddy makes a quiet noise and nudges his face more into his hand.

It takes Dean a good hour to fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! comment and kudo please <3


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me? feeling guilty and trying to make up for the almost 5 months i didn't update? .... maybe
> 
> also highkey in love with yall for commenting last chapter. ma hart is bursting with love. <3 :D
> 
> enjoy~

When Dean wakes up the next morning, the dogs are asleep on the floor, and Castiel is curled up on the other side of the bed, fast asleep. Dean stares at him for a few minutes, taking in the tired lines on his face, the bags under his eyes, the healing bruise on the underside of his jaw. He looks like he’s been through hell. Dean silently stands from the bed and cleans up in the bathroom, then heads downstairs to the kitchen.

Castiel shuffles into the room tiredly as he’s setting down a large plate of waffles. They stop and stare at each other for a few minutes, taking the other in. Then Dean steps away from the island and walks over to him, wrapping his arms around Castiel’s waist and pulling him in for a tight hug. Castiel lets out a pained grunt, then sighs softly in his ear and hugs him back just as tightly, tucking his face into Dean’s neck. “I’m sorry for last night,” he mumbles. Dean nods but doesn’t answer verbally. He knows that Castiel was just protecting him. His attitude towards him hurt, but Dean understands. He's not mad. “God, I missed you so much.”

“Missed you too, Cas,” he whispers back, breathing in deeply. He smells like cologne, sweat, and something uniquely Castiel. “Are you okay?”

“I am now,” Castiel replies, kissing Dean’s neck. There’s a clicking of claws on the floor, and Shadow appears around the corner with Ghost and Teddy. They all stop at the doorway and sit, watching them with cocked heads. Dean huffs against Castiel’s shoulder and pulls away reluctantly. Castiel glances behind himself then smiles as he turns back to Dean, cupping his face in his hands and pressing a deep kiss to his lips.

“Please don’t leave like that again,” Dean says, hesitating. Castiel closes his eyes for a moment, expression melting into something sad.

“I’m not quite sure I can promise you that,” Castiel says. “I will have to leave again for something like that at some point. I just hope it’s not at any time in the near future.” Dean hides his frown by turning and stepping away from him, dishing out food in the bowls for the dogs. The dogs immediately come over to eat when Dean makes a gesture, and he steps back to watch them for a moment.

Castiel steps up behind him and tugs him back against his chest, wrapping his arms around Dean. He kisses his neck, then rests his chin on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” Dean nods. He understands. It’s work. He gets it. Doesn’t mean he likes it.

“So what’s with the dogs?” Dean asks, staring at them as they gobble their food down.

“Protection and company for you,” Castiel replies. “They’ve been with me for almost two years now, and have been incredibly obedient and loyal. I know they will protect you to the best of their abilities.” Dean nods, glancing down at where Castiel’s arms are wrapped around him and sighing.

“Why were those officers here?” Dean twists around in Castiel’s arms so he can see his face. Castiel leans back a little and smiles at him, studying his face with a soft warmth. “Do they suspect you of something?” Castiel blinks a couple times, and after a couple more minutes of silence, the smile drops from his face and he steps back, arms falling to his sides.

“Have a seat,” Castiel says. He takes his own seat at the island, and Dean follows suit, sitting beside him and facing him, his knees brushing up against the side of Castiel’s thigh. Castiel remains facing forward, gazing down at the counter with a thoughtful expression. “Do you remember when I told you about my seventh birthday?”

Dean winces hard and clears his throat. “Yes?”

“My biological father was a man named Jacob Hanford,” Castiel began in a monotone. “He loved to gamble, that was his addiction, his life. He lost more than he ever won, but he didn’t care. The first thing the mafia took from us as compensation was my mom,” Castiel swallows, “then it was our house, and then it was Anna and I. Anna protected me to the best of her ability, she defied and fought tooth and nail and did whatever she could to make sure I was protected from the bad men that held us captive. I was six when I was taken, I didn’t know much but I did know we were in grave danger. God… There were others, so many others...”

Castiel pauses, leaning forward and putting his elbows on the counter, running his hands over his face, through his hair and to the nape of his neck. Dean shuffles a little forward and places his hand on his back, rubbing gently. Castiel turns to look at him and manages a weak smile. He immediately turns away as he begins speaking again, though.

“After Anna passed away, I tried to refuse them- I mean- I didn’t want-”

“You don’t have to justify anything,” Dean interrupts firmly. “Never.”

Castiel clears his throat. “They dragged my mom to the basement and threatened to do… to do... _it..._ to her instead. She tried to provoke them and get them to ignore me and just hurt her, but I didn’t want to hear her screams anymore. Every night they used to hurt her, Dean, they did so many things to her-” Castiel’s shoulders tremble, but he doesn’t cry. “I don’t even know what. I didn’t understand so many things back then.”

Dean squeezes his eyes shut. Jesus, he can’t even imagine that. He doesn’t want to. “I let them do what they wanted to me- I-” Castiel lets out a hissing breath, hands trembling. “During the… you know… I- All the emotions inside of me, all those overwhelmingly pained and grieving emotions, burst out. I stabbed one of the men in the neck with the pin of one of their belts.”

“That’s my badass,” Dean mumbles, leaning forward and nuzzling against Castiel’s shoulder. The man huffs quietly, but it’s not amused.

“They killed my mom.” Dean clenches his hands into fists. “And they threatened to kill the rest of the people with me if I didn’t do everything they asked.”

“Cas- Cas, are you still… working for them?”

“Most of them have mysteriously died,” Castiel replies dryly, clearing his throat again and glancing at Dean. “We’re not quite sure how.” Dean squints a little and tilts his head in a mimic of a curious Castiel.

“Uh-huh,” he says. Castiel killed them, but he’s not finished yet. “How many are left?”

“Just two.”

“And do you think those two are going to die in the near future?”

Castiel smiles wolfishly, darkly. “Oh, yes,” he says sinisterly. A shiver races up and down Dean’s spine. “Very painfully.” Dean curls his toes and nods. Castiel is going to kill them soon. He’s going to kill the last two people who brought a life of misery upon him. Dean’s oddly okay with him taking another person’s life. He really shouldn’t be, regardless of how bad they are, but he is.

“Hanford.. Is he…?”

“No,” Castiel mumbles. “They killed him.”

“Cas… I’m sorry for everything,” Dean says, nudging Castiel to sit back in his seat. The older man doesn’t reply. He carefully climbs into his lap, straddling him, resting his back against the edge of the counter. Dean glances down at Castiel’s lap, staring at his hands. He plays with the fingers of Castiel’s right hand, looking at the calluses, and the scarred and healing cuts covering them. Castiel likes to take care of his hands, but it’s apparent that because of the business he just returned from, he hasn’t had the time.

“So…”

“What?” Castiel mumbles.

“Who’s Cain?” Castiel tenses ever so slightly and is silent for several minutes. “Is he… you know, someone who works with you?”

Castiel huffs quietly. “No, well, not exactly,” he says quietly. “Cain was actually my first job.”

“Huh?” Dean frowns, confused.

“He was my first request by the men who forced me to take this job,” Castiel clarifies. “I was supposed to lure him away, kill him, and dispose of the body. He’s… Cain was the fixer for them before me. He doesn’t take well to people snooping around him, so he confronted me and demanded I tell him why I was-” Castiel chuckles and uses his hands to make finger quotes like a dork, “‘poorly’ stalking him. I’m still not even sure why, but I told him everything, and he helped me fake his death, and promised to get me revenge on the people who took me.”

Castiel places his hands on Dean’s thighs, looking down with a thoughtful expression. “Of course, he sent me back there after, to tell them I did the job and show them the photographic proof of him covered in blood- fake blood. I had to stay with the men for a couple more months before Cain finally showed up and burned the entire estate to the ground. He made most of the men who hurt me that night... _disappear_ , and the ones who weren’t there or managed to escape, well... They’ve been slowly going missing for the last few decades.

“The other victims escaped, and Cain set them all up on his farm in Missouri. Did he tell you he keeps bees?” Castiel sounds excited now. “They’re such beautiful, hardworking creatures. He taught me how to care for them, how to extract the honey from their combs without dislodging or angering them.”

“Okay, Mr. Honey Bee,” Dean snorts.

“You’re my honey bee,” Castiel says, sounding absolutely serious. Dean blinks, glancing into his eyes, and finds nothing but sincerity in them. His stomach flutters and his heart pounds just a little faster, and he can’t look at Castiel in the eye for long. “My sweet, saving grace.”

“I didn’t save you from anything,” Dean mumbles, cheeks warming. Castiel tugs him closer, kissing the side of his head.

“You saved me the night I met you,” Castiel admits in his ear. Dean grips Castiel tighter, clenching his jaw tight. “You kept trying to look at me discreetly, and I swear your face was redder than a ripe tomato-” Dean punches him lightly in the arm, earning a laugh. “You looked so beautiful there, baby. I can only imagine what was going on in that head of yours.”

“Was thinking’ about how hot you look in a suit,” Dean mumbles, blushing harder and tucking his face into Castiel’s neck. “You look so good in a suit. It’s not fair.” Castiel chuckles and presses a wet kiss to his neck. “Makes me… I dunno, makes me feel like you’re invincible.” Castiel nudges him back and captures his lips in a kiss, sighing quietly against them.

“Thank you,” he replies against his lips. They pull apart a little, their breathing is now a little heavier, and Dean notices a twinkle in Castiel’s eyes. As they continue to stare at each other, the twinkle disappears and the air around them begins to become tense again. “Anyways, as for why the officers were here,” Castiel says, kissing the corner of Dean’s mouth. “They are corrupt, they work for my boss. He was testing me.”

Jesus. They could have killed Dean and probably wouldn’t have given him a second thought for the rest of their lives. “How does he know where you live?”

“He bought this house,” Castiel replies, sounding a little angry. “Forced me to live here. Where he knows.”

“I’m sorry, Cas.” Dean kisses him on the lips. “I hate the thought of you being forced to do anything for those bastards. Are you going to take care of them soon?” Castiel eyes him for a moment, then nods.

“As soon as possible,” he replies.

“Good.” Dean grins a little, vicious. “I’ll even help if you want me to.” Castiel just smiles indulgently at him and proceeds to pull him in for a deep, filthy kiss. A small whine has them breaking apart moments later and looking down at where the dogs are curled up around the chair. Shadow is sitting on his butt and looking up at them with sad little eyes.

“Someone’s gotta use the bathroom.” Dean snorts at Castiel’s words, and slides out of his lap carefully, not wanting to step on the dogs. He heads for the back door and unlocks it, letting all the dogs head out into the yard to relieve themselves.

They spend the rest of the day curled up on the couch with the dogs on the floor next to them. They put on movies but most of their time is spent making out languidly and nuzzling into each other. Dean doesn’t think about anything but the happy moment they’re in until he heads upstairs to sleep with Castiel in the evening and finds a few missed calls from his pseudo-uncle Bobby on his cellphone. Dean dials him back immediately, holding the phone up to his ear as it rings and rings and rings and rings and rings-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! comment and kudo please <3


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i honestly dont understand whats happening anymore. this was supposed to be SEX. PURE SMUT. ALL SEXY TIMES. sighs

“Boy, I’ve been trying to reach you for hours,” Bobby says gruffly, sounding a little sleepy. Dean smiles inwardly, knowing under all that surliness is a big ol’ teddy bear.

“Sorry,” he says with a small grin. “What’s up, old man?”

“Watch yourself, boy,” Bobby says stiffly. Despite his tone, Dean can hear the poorly concealed smile in his voice. “Just wondering when you’re planning on coming over.”

“Coming over?” Dean asks, confused.

Bobby’s silent for a moment, then he says quietly. “For the baby shower? You are coming, right, boy?”

Dean feels like he’s been struck by lightning. Shit. He completely forgot about that. Is it already the end of September? He glances at the clock on his nightstand and looks at the date. He has two days before the actual shower, but he had planned on driving over earlier to see Bobby and Jody. Everyone will be there for a whole week. _Everyone_. Double shit.

“Probably in a day or so,” Dean answers. “Planning on starting the drive around noon. Be there about eight or nine.”

“Alright, then,” Bobby says. There’s silence on the other end for several seconds.

“Jody put you up to this, didn’t she?” Dean says finally, unable to stop the chuckle that escapes him when Bobby starts grumbling under his breath. Dean’s not offended by it. Bobby’s not one to sit on the phone with you and gush about every detail of his life. He prefers sitting in silence.

“You bringin’ anyone?”

Dean swallows and clenches his jaw, turning to stare at the other side of the bed. Empty. Dammit, he’s in the bathroom. “I dunno,” he says quietly. What if they don’t like him? What if they say something rude? “I- I’ll see.” Bobby stays silent. What if his dad says something? Or Sam. Dean winces. “I’ll see, okay? Tell Jody I said hi.”

“Yeah, alright,” Bobby finally says. “Talk to you later, boy.”

“Bye, Bobby.” Dean sets his phone down on the nightstand after Bobby hangs up. He sighs, rubbing his eyes with the backs of his hands. He drops back down on the bed, yawning and stretching his body.

* * *

The next morning, Dean asks Castiel if he wants to come with him to Jody’s baby shower. The older man bristles, and immediately turns away from him, pretending to be completely absorbed in making himself a fresh cup of coffee. “I would love to meet your family,” he says, the words stiff and hesitant. Dean shifts in his chair and stares at him with a narrowed gaze.

“What’s with you?” he asks when Castiel doesn’t turn around to look at him. He’s done making his coffee, and he’s just standing there staring down at it.

“Nothing,” Castiel says, picking his mug up and turning around. He shoots Dean a smile, but Dean’s been around him long enough now that he knows it’s forced. He hesitates before speaking, wondering if Castiel meeting his family is too soon. They’ve never talked about what they really are, and Castiel still pays Dean for cleaning and cooking, but they’re definitely more than an employer and employee. Or maybe this is because Castiel is worried about how he’ll come across to Dean’s family?

“There’s nothing to worry about,” he tries, shooting Castiel a smile when he looks at him. “They’re pretty laid back people. They won’t roast you for dinner or something.” Castiel snorts with amusement at his words, then looks down at his coffee. He leans back against the counter, sipping from the mug in his hands.

“That’s not it,” he says finally, voice quiet. “Is your father going to be there?” Dean digs his short nails into his palm, and narrows his eyes at him.

“Yes, probably,” he says slowly. “Why?”

Castiel’s jaw muscles tense as he clenches his teeth together, his eyes squinting as he glares down at the mug in his hands. “Nothing.”

“Come on,” Dean says. “Tell me.”

“ _Dean_ ,” Castiel’s tone has turned dark and bitter. “Leave it.”

“No,” Dean replies. “Tell me.” He stands up, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at Castiel when he lifts his head to look at him. Castiel sighs heavily and sets his mug down, dropping his arms to his sides, hands clenching into fists.

“I looked into Alastair,” he says.

Dean flinches away like Castiel slapped him across the face. He might as well have, saying that bastard’s name. Dean’s eyes sting but he doesn’t tear up. Castiel swallows thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and steps closer to Dean. It takes everything in Dean not to stumble backwards and away from him. “H-how could- Why?” Dean whispers.

“I wanted to know if you were safe,” Castiel says, voice low and hesitant.

“I told you-” Dean swallows a mouthful of saliva, his heart pounding. “I told you Bobby-” God, he can’t even speak. He hates… he... he _hates_. He doesn’t know what or who but he does.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel says. “It was wrong to do so without your permission. I didn’t-”

“Shut the fuck up,” Dean snaps, gaze blurring. He glances down when he hears a soft growl, and finds Teddy standing beside him, his eyes boring dangerously into Castiel. He reaches down and touches the back of Teddy’s neck. The dog doesn’t move or stop growling. “Shh, it’s okay, Teddy.” Teddy stops growling, and shifts into a more defensive stance.

“Dean…”

“What did you find?”

Castiel is quiet for a moment. “His rap sheets,” he says. “That he disappeared in November of 2008.” Castiel clears his throat. “Bank statements.”

“Bank statements?” Dean’s voice sounds scared. Ghost nudges up against the backs of his knees, and he drops to the floor, letting her butt her nose against his cheek.

“I- It’s- He- It- They’re- He paid your father to have you,” Castiel manages to blurt out. Dean stills, his heart feeling like it’s stopped, his breath catching in his throat. His stomach is twisting and turning violently and he feels like he’s going to throw up. He feels like the walls are closing in on him and he’s going to be crushed more than he already feels. He feels like he’s going to- “Breathe please, baby,” Castiel whispers, his hands touching Dean, rubbing his back and cupping his face. “Breathe.”

Dean chokes on air, heaving it in and out of lungs, his body trembling. Ghost licks his cheek, lapping up tears as they fall. “That’s n-not true.” Dean whispers, letting Castiel pull him closer until he’s sitting in his lap. “That’s not- It’s- It’s n-not true. He wou-wouldn’t-” Dean sits up. “It’s not true! Why are you lying to me?” Dean tries to pull away from him but Castiel holds fast, cupping his cheek and turning his head so their eyes are locked.

“I’m not,” Castiel says firmly. “I would never lie about this. Dean- I- Fuck, I’m sorry.” He tugs Dean back into his arms and holds him tight, kissing his head and rocking him slightly in his lap. “I’m sorry- I- I didn’t mean to upset you so. I just-”

“Shut up,” Dean snarls, tucking his face in Castiel’s neck. “I fucking hate you.” A quiet sob escapes his throat following those words, and he wraps his arms around Castiel, tucking his face into his neck. His dad- _John_ took money to let some slimy creep rape him. John betrayed him for money. Sold him like he was a piece of meat.

Castiel swallows. “Okay,” he mumbles, sounding small and tired and sad. Dean cries quietly, and Castiel holds him, the dogs sitting in front of them, alert and confused and worried. Castiel also betrayed him by looking into Alastair. He never told him not to, and he should have known that eventually Castiel would want to look into his past and find that stupid bastard. To bring him closure or… or revenge.

Dean sniffs and pulls away. Castiel lets him go, so Dean slides out of his arms and off his lap and onto the floor, moving closer to Shadow. “You should have asked me,” Dean says, voice thick. “You didn’t have any right to- to look into that.”

“I’m sorry,” Castiel says quietly. He sounds guilty. “I was wrong. I won’t do anything like that again.”

Dean doesn’t say anything in reply to him, choosing to play with Shadow’s ear with his right hand, and wipe at his face with his other hand. “Where is…” Dean clears his throat. “Where is he?” He hopes far away from here, from his hometown.

“I-” Castiel hesitates. “I do not know. There has been no trail to follow him since that… that time.” Dean nods. Did Bobby really kill him then? Or… Or send him somewhere? Dean wants to call him and ask, demand to know where that creep is, but he’s… he might be better off not knowing.

Everything is quiet for a long while. Teddy gets comfortable, nudging his head just in front of Dean’s legs, sprawling out on his back. Dean reaches out and pets his belly lazily. Teddy starts snoring after a couple minutes, content to sleep like that. “I’m not- I lied-” Dean licks his lips. “I don’t hate you.”

“That’s good to know,” Castiel mumbles. “It would- That would be a very difficult pill to swallow if you did.”

“‘M not happy with you though,” Dean continues, playing with the soft fur behind Teddy’s ears. “You should have asked me before doing that. I did-” Dean cuts himself off and sighs.

“You did, what?”

“I wanted you to look into him, I did,” he says. “I just… I wasn’t ready yet.”

“I understand,” Castiel says. “And I am very sorry, Dean.”

“What’s done is done,” he says. Dean shifts so he’s on his knees, then stands up. Teddy jolts, glancing around with a wild stare, then settles down, turning back onto his stomach. Dean steps around Shadow and Ghost, and sits down at the island. Castiel follows him, sitting down beside him.

“I’m- Would you like me to leave you alone?” Castiel asks. Dean clenches his jaw, and his stomach turns as he nods. “I-... Okay…” Castiel stays still for a moment, then stands up and slowly walks out of the room. Dean listens closely as he walks up the stairs, one step at a time, and further as he opens and closes a door. His office, perhaps. Or the bedroom.

Dean shuffles into the living room and curls up on the sofa. It smells like cologne, like strangers. He gets up and sprays it down with a disinfectant spray, then cuddles into the middle corner of the sofa and covers himself with a blanket. Teddy comes to sit beside his head, and whines quietly. Dean lifts the blanket and pats his stomach. “Come here, buddy,” he says. Teddy hops onto the couch from below Dean’s feet, then flops on top of him. The breath escapes Dean in a whoosh, and he chuckles.

Teddy flops a bit more, getting comfortable. Dean adjusts him too, so he’s not pressing on anything and hurting him. He covers them both and stares up at the ceiling. Ghost licks his cheeks, so he sighs and tells her to get up as well. She jumps up beside his head, and nudges him until he lifts his head and shoulders up. She wiggles down underneath him, and lets him rest his head against her side. She curls around him with a small noise, content. Dean looks around for Shadow, but he doesn’t find him in the room. He frowns but assumes he went to find Castiel. Dean falls asleep, warm and content with his two companions.

* * *

Dean wakes up to the sound of Castiel speaking quietly. He keeps his eyes closed and listens for a moment. “You’re such a good boy,” he’s saying. His voice is getting closer to Dean, so he tries to even his breathing out like it would be when he’s sleeping. “Taking care of Dean, huh, Teddy?” Teddy lets out a small yip. “Shhhh,” Castiel says. He’s right next to Dean now, he can feel the heat radiating off of his body. “ ** _Silenzio_**. He’s sleeping.” Ghost shifts a little beneath Dean’s head. “And you too, Ghost. You’re a good girl.”

Castiel sighs and shifts a little, groaning a little as he gets comfortable. “I’m too old to be sitting on the floor,” he complains. Dean holds back a smile. “Come ‘ere, Shadow, come ‘ere, boy.” Dean hears the clicking of claws and then a low growl and Castiel’s quiet laugh. “Good boy. Sit.” Shadow’s claws click a little as he sits.

Dean doesn’t hear anything for a few minutes, save for the breathing of the dogs and himself and Castiel. He falls asleep again, still warm and held down by Teddy’s weight. He’s a big dog, but Dean doesn’t mind so much. It’s comforting.

When he wakes up again, he jolts, confused to find that Teddy is gone. He sits up, rubbing his eyes and groaning, and looks around blearily. “Hey,” Castiel says, sitting on the other end of the sofa, Dean’s feet in his lap. Dean clears his throat and rubs at his face. “Nice nap?”

“Hi,” he mumbles. “Yeah, it was, uh, good.” Silence.

“Are you hungry?”

“A little,” he says, shrugging. “You?”

“No.”

More silence. Dean curls his legs to his body, looking down beside him and finding Teddy and Shadow curled up on a large dark brown dog bed, half on top of each other. He glances towards the corner of the couch, and finds Ghost watching him. “... don’t wanna fight with you,” Dean finds himself whispering. “I don’t wanna be mad at you.”

Castiel holds his arms apart. “Come here,” he says. Dean shifts until he can crawl into his lap, curled up against his chest, and wrap the blanket around himself. “I’m sorry for not getting your permission first, Dean. That was extremely wrong of me, and I can never take that decision back. I don’t want to fight with you either.”

Dean sits up a little, glancing down at Castiel’s lips. He quickly pecks him on the lips, and glances up into Castiel’s eyes. He looks confused, and also amused. “It’s okay,” Dean says, tucking his face into Castiel’s shoulder. “I forgive you.”

“Thank you,” Castiel says.

“And Cas?”

“Yes?”

“... Tell me everything you found.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! comment and kudo please <3


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!1!!!111!!!!!!!!!!11!!!!!!

The next day, Castiel and Dean have their things packed up in the Impala and they’re turning onto the highway, getting ready to make the several hour drive to Sioux Falls. They stop once for a late lunch and spend some time in the small town, but they still manage to get to Bobby’s place before nine at night.

Dean slows the car down as they get closer to the house, gravel crunching underneath the tires. The lights are still on, and he can see his dad’s truck and an unfamiliar blue hybrid car. He pulls his car up beside the hybrid car, and parks, turning her off. “Family’s already here,” Dean says, his first words since they got back on the road after lunch. Castiel doesn’t say anything, but he reaches across the bench seat and runs his hand through Dean’s hair. “Cas, I-”

“Shh,” Castiel whispers, turning towards him, bringing his left leg up to rest on the seat in a bent position. He slides a little closer, tugs Dean towards him, and hugs him from the side, nuzzling his face against the side of his hair, pressing small kisses to his scalp. Dean leans heavily into him, reaching his right hand out blindly, gripping Castiel’s pants. “It’ll be okay,” he murmurs. “You’ll be okay."

“Should go in,” he mumbles in reply. “Probably heard the car.” Neither of them move for several minutes, then Castiel slowly nudges him back and lowers his arms. He runs his hand through Dean’s hair again, fingers soft and teasing, sliding through the strands easily. Castiel leans his head forward, stealing a quick kiss that makes Dean blink and frown and try to get another. “Cas-”

“Come on, sweetheart,” he says, eyes dancing with mirth. “Let’s go inside.” Dean resists the urge to pout, watching instead as Castiel shuffles backward and opens the passenger door, sliding out of the car. He stretches enticingly, but Dean can’t even appreciate the stretch of his body, his stomach turning with nerves.

He pulls the key from the ignition and slides out of the car, locking the door before closing it, tucking his keys in his pocket. They grab their duffel bags from the trunk, and Castiel tugs him against his side, arm firmly wrapped around Dean’s waist, as they head up to the porch. As they ascend the porch, Dean steals a glance at both of their clothes.

It’s cold out and there are leaves all over the ground. It’s on the verge of turning into a very brisk autumn. To fight against the cold, he’s wearing a pair of worn but thick dark blue jeans, his dark brown boots, a black t-shirt and black-white flannel, and a thick dark green jacket. Castiel, on the other hand, is dressed to the nines.

A hand-tailored charcoal grey suit, pinned white dress shirt, dark purple tie and matching breast pocket handkerchief, black peacoat, shiny black dress boots, and a pair of soft black leather gloves. And of course, with his customary silver watch, engraved black and gold cufflinks, and stylishly messy hair. He looks delectable, and Dean can’t help but lick his lips as he takes him in. Castiel is definitely here to make an impression.

Castiel sets his bag down on the porch, knocking firmly on the door when he finds no doorbell to ring. They hear footsteps approaching the door, and then it’s being pulled open to reveal Jody. “Dean!” she says, yanking him in for a firm, tight hug and a kiss on the side of his cheek. Her large belly presses into his abdomen, and he smiles, being careful as he hugs her back. “How have you been?”

“Hey, Jody,” he says, laughing. “I’m good, you?”

“Great, great,” she says, glancing at Castiel. “And who is this?” Dean swallows, watching as she looks Castiel over critically, eyes narrowed.

“This is Castiel Novak, my… partner,” he tells her hesitantly. “Cas, this is Jody Mills. Bobby’s fiance,” he adds the last part after a second of hesitation.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” Castiel says as he pulls his gloves off, voice smooth and dripping honey. “Dean speaks very highly of you.” He holds his gloves in his left hand and takes Jody’s offered hand with his right, shaking it firmly, before bending down and pressing a chaste kiss to her knuckles. His action visibly surprises Jody, who glances quickly at Dean with an approving smile.

“No need to bullshit. And just call me Jody,” she says, dropping her hand. “Come on in, boys.” Castiel shoots him a wink once Jody turns her back and steps into the house, giving them room to enter. He picks up his duffel from the floor and follows Dean inside the house, closing the door behind him.

Jody takes their bags, putting them down beside the stairs so they can take them up later, and hangs up their jackets for them. They toe their shoes off and place them neatly in the corner. “Everyone else is in the family room,” she says, hesitantly. “Sam brought his girlfriend. And... I think… I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.” Jody just smiles at his questioning look but does her best to keep an innocent expression on her face. Dean knows that they’re all aware of how Sam has changed, and they all hate it. He hasn’t spoken with his brother in a long while, not since he stopped sending him money, and he’s actually wondering how he is. Has he changed for the better? Become a new person? Dean hopes so. He misses his Sammy.

Castiel squeezes his shoulder, hand sliding down his spine to rest on his lower back. Dean feels like he’s about to say something so he quickly says, “Let’s go,” and starts for the family room. There’s silence behind him for a second, then Jody and Castiel follow after him, footsteps soft against the hardwood floors.

“Hey, boy,” Bobby greets the moment he comes around the corner. Bobby’s sitting in his recliner, John and his wife Kate on the couch, and Sam and his girlfriend are sitting on the loveseat. They all look over at him, and John opens his mouth to say a greeting. Castiel comes around the corner with Jody the moment his lips part, and his eyes immediately cut over to him and darken.

He whistles loud and long, and says with a disgusted laugh, “Looks like you got yourself a sugar daddy, kid.” Dean bristles, face warming with embarrassment and irritation as he looks over at Castiel. He doesn’t look embarrassed; his eyes are dark and his lips pressed into a thin line, jaw clenched with anger.

“Watch yourself, Mr. Winchester,” Castiel says in a low and hard voice, his words cold and sharp. John raises an eyebrow, tilting his head back and pushing his shoulders back. John’s betrayal is still sharp in his mind. Dean has never loathed someone more, even Alastair is a spot above his own father. Seeing his father makes Dean want to throw up.

“Or...” John starts, standing up, “ _what_?” He crosses his arms over his chest. Kate stands up as well, reaching out and placing a hand on John’s shoulder, looking annoyed with his behavior, and ready to chastise him. Bobby stands up too, looking just as irritated as Kate.

“John,” Bobby starts, looking at him. “That’s enough.”

Castiel straightens his posture and grins, shark-like and sinister. John blinks, frowning at the expression. “Perhaps introductions should be made tomorrow morning when we’ve all had time to rest, and have better control over our words,” Castiel says, eyes cutting into John. Castiel is trying to give his dad an out, Dean realizes, but he knows that John will see his words as nothing more than a further excuse to fight.

“There’s nothing wrong with what I said,” John replies. He turns his eyes to Dean and scoffs. “You fuckin’ him for cash, kid? That desperate?” Dean wants to answer him, but he cuts his gaze over to Sam as he sighs and tries to hide it by pressing his lips together and turning his face away.

“Mr. Winchester,” Castiel snaps, bringing all eyes back to him. “I don’t like to repeat myself, but I’ll tell you one more time, watch yourself. I would dislike starting this week off on a bad note, but I’m not opposed to it.”

“Even letting him fight your battles, kid,” John continues, rolling his eyes and dropping his arms to his sides. “Pathetic.” Dean’s stomach turns violently, and for one moment, he thinks he’s going to throw up. Dean hates how much John’s words affect him. The feeling settles, if only a little, when Jody sighs and steps between them now before Castiel can continue.

“Alright, that’s enough,” she says. “We don’t need a fight first thing. Everyone, this is Castiel Novak. Castiel, this is Dean’s dad, John and his wife Kate Milligan, his little brother Sam, and Sam’s girlfriend Jessica Moore, and my fiance, Bobby Singer.”

“It’s good to meet most of you,” Castiel says, eyes still locked on John’s.

“Aw, what? You didn’t like meeting me?” John taunts with a grin.

“ _John_ ,” Kate mutters sharply, shooting him a glare. She turns to Dean and Castiel with a hesitant smile. “I’m sorry. He’s-”

“Don’t apologize,” John interrupts, clenching his jaw. “Nothing to apologize for. Just stating what I see and asking some questions. Just tell us if you’re fucking him for cash, kid, least you can do.”

“No,” Dean says, voice embarrassingly soft. He clears his throat. “I’m not.” Except… he technically is, isn’t he? Castiel still pays him, and while they haven’t had sex since Castiel has returned, they have shared many kisses.

“So you’re just friends, then?” John says, snorting. “Should’ve just said so.”

“We are partners,” Castiel says, voice like ice. Dean swallows, watching his dad’s face twist with disgust.

“Fucking pieces of shit, that’s what you-”

Dean blinks and suddenly Castiel is across the room in a few long strides. He watches with wide eyes as Castiel stops abruptly one foot away from his dad, slowly reaching his hands out and adjusting John’s open overshirt. Castiel wrinkles his nose at John’s surprised expression, who was clearly ready for a punch or shove or _something_ violent.

“I don’t want to have a problem with you, Mr. Winchester,” Castiel says, low and pointed. “But if you can’t respect Dean or myself, then I-” John throws a punch, sending Castiel stumbling backward with surprise.

“Cas-” Dean tries, stepping forward. Castiel holds up his hand and straightens from his bent over position, a grin turning his blood-reddened lips up. Damn, his dad hit him hard.

“Godammit, John,” Bobby snaps, walking over to them. He steps in front of Castiel. “You alright?”

“I’m quite fine, Mr. Singer, thank you,” Castiel says. Bobby eyes him for a second, clearly expecting him to try to retaliate, but Castiel just pulls his handkerchief from his pocket and dabs at his mouth with an irritated arch of his left eyebrow.

“Alright, then,” Bobby says, turning to John. He points at him with his index finger. “Behave yourself, John, or get the hell out of my house.”

Dean glances at his brother and finds him frowning at Castiel. He looks at Jessica, who looks disapproving and pissed off with his dad. He licks his lips, glancing at Castiel, watching as he tucks his handkerchief into his pant pocket. “I promise to not be too rough,” Castiel drawls, bringing all eyes back to him.

Castiel tilts his head to the side, unbuttoning his blazer, sliding the jacket enticingly down his arms. Not enticingly, not enticingly! Dean should not be thinking like that, not right now anyway. Castiel catches it easily before it falls to the floor and tosses it over the back of the couch. “Castiel,” Bobby starts, frowning at him. “M-”

“Is that a gun?” Jody asks suddenly, voice sharp, her eyes locked on the back of Castiel’s pants.

“Yes, it is, Jody, I have a permit. And Mr. Singer, please don’t try to stop me,” Castiel says, deftly undoing his cufflinks. He turns to Jody with an easy smile, slowly pulling the gun from his pants and handing it to Dean. “I’m sorry for causing a disturbance in your home, and I will be sure to leave after this, but,” he pauses briefly, rolling his sleeves to his elbows. “As they say, an eye for an eye.”

“Come on then,” John says, stepping around Bobby. “Throw a punch, you little bit-” One moment John’s standing tall and tough, looking like whatever Castiel throws at him will do nothing, and the next he’s lying on the floor, groaning. Castiel hums softly, cracking his knuckles. “Fuck,” John mumbles, sitting up.

“That,” Castiel says, bending forward and grabbing a fistful of John’s shirt, yanking him up to his feet, “was for punching me.” Castiel punches him in the gut, still holding his shirt even as John bends forward with a grunt of pain. “That was for insulting Dean-” He blocks a punch from John and backhands him across the face. “And that was for ignoring my warnings.” Another punch, “That was for insinuating Dean was a prostitute.” Castiel delivers one final punch, letting go of John’s shirt and letting him fall to the floor in a heap. “And that,” he says, a vicious grin on his face. He pauses for a moment like he’s thinking. “Well… That was for the hell of it.”

“Fuckin’ bastard,” John groans, pushing Kate away when she tries to help him sit up.

“I can ruin you, Mr. Winchester, with nothing but a thirty-second phone call,” Castiel says, wiping the blood from his knuckles with his handkerchief. “I implore you to heed my warning this time and refrain from forcing my hand again. It will not end well for you.”

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” John rasps, breathing hard as he stands up, swaying on his feet. Castiel sighs and turns away from him. “Thinkin’ you can come in here with your fancy clothes and tell me what the fuck to do.”

Castiel unrolls his sleeves and pulls his cufflinks from his pocket, slipping them through the holes of his cuffs and putting the backs on. He looks at Dean when he’s done, worry and something sincerely and intensely apologetic flashing across his eyes for just a moment. Dean knows where this is going. He takes a second to contemplate it. Bringing what happened back then with John out into the light while his little brother is here is not something Dean wants. He doesn’t want to seem like even more of a fuck up to him. He can’t let him know what happened. And Bobby will surely murder his dad if he finds out.

He shakes his head negatively to Castiel, and watches as the older man nods and turns to the side to look at John. “We will be taking our leave,” Castiel says. He glances over at Bobby and Jody and offers up a smile. “I’m sorry for the disturbance I have caused in your home tonight. Dean and I will be staying at a hotel for the remainder of our time in Sioux Falls.”

Castiel turns back to face Dean and walks over to him. Dean stays stiff as he wraps his arm around his shoulders, and tries to ignore the disgust on his dad’s face. He can’t even look at Sam to know how he’s reacting. “You don’t have to do that,” Jody says hesitantly. “We have plenty of room here, and staying at a hotel is just a waste of money.”

“Dean?” Castiel murmurs, turning to look at him. Dean clears his throat. He wants to stay here with his family, but he doesn’t want to be around his dad.

“We’ll stay in town,” he says. “I-” He doesn’t know what to say.

“I apologize again,” Castiel interrupts. “We’ll be taking our leave.” Castiel tightens his arm around Dean and nudges him to walk with him towards the door. Dean’s heart is beating rapidly, blood is rushing in his ears, and he just wants to sleep and feel nothing. “Come on, sweetheart,” Castiel murmurs in his ear, helping him put his jacket back on. Dean swallows thickly and heads out to the car while Castiel grabs their bags before following after him.

Dean slides into the front seat while Castiel tosses their bags in the trunk beside the gifts, then gets into the passenger side. “I’m sorry for the scene I caused,” he says, breaking the stifling silence in the car.

“It’s okay, Cas,” Dean mumbles tiredly. “Not all your fault. I- I just wish that he wasn’t here this week.” Castiel reaches across the empty space between them and grasps Dean’s hand in his, intertwining their fingers together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! comment and kudo please <3


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi hi hihi hi hi hi HI :D

Dean wakes up curled around Castiel. He blinks several times and leans his face back, focusing his gaze on the mess of hair in front of him. He hums and snuggles back in, pressing a kiss to Castiel’s nape. “I’ve had to pee for the last ten minutes,” Castiel suddenly mutters bitterly. Dean snorts and releases his death grip on Castiel’s waist. Immediately, Castiel stands up and shuffles to the bathroom to relieve himself.

Dean rolls over onto his back and stretches his body, yawning loudly, halfheartedly trying to cover his mouth with the back of his hand. He curls up on his other side, cuddling back under the warm covers, nuzzling his face into his pillow. He listens as Castiel steps out of the bathroom with a yawn. “It’s just after seven,” he says as he comes back to the bed. He slides back under the covers and presses himself to Dean’s back, dropping a kiss on his shoulder.

He blinks across the room, sighing softly as Castiel presses more kisses to his bare shoulder. “Daddy,” he mumbles, turning onto his back and looking up at Castiel. The man smiles and leans down, tucking his face under Dean’s chin and kissing his collarbones and neck. Dean tilts his head back more, a low groan building in his chest as Castiel begins to suck marks into his skin. “Daddy?”

“Hmm?” Castiel moves his kisses down his chest, making his way to Dean’s right nipple.

“Can you fuck me?” Dean asks quietly. Castiel pauses then lifts his head to look at Dean.

“And how would you like me to fuck you, sweetheart?” he asks, a wicked smile slowly turning his lips upwards. Dean swallows thickly and squirms a little. He studies his face for a moment, finding that Castiel’s lip is just ever so slightly puffy from where John punched him. The blood last night was mostly from where Castiel had accidentally bit himself with surprise, and that’s definitely stopped.

“Like this,” he mumbles, tugging Castiel on top of him. Castiel just smiles and makes a place for himself between Dean’s thighs, leaning down to press more kisses to his chest. “Come on,” he mumbles. “Just want you to fuck me.”

Castiel hums in response, and pull back to get off the bed. He shuffles over to their luggage and kneels down beside his bag, digging around in it until he finds lube and condoms. He tosses them on the bed as he crawls back on. He pushes the covers away and pushes Dean’s legs further apart, pressing kisses to the insides of his thighs.

He grabs the lube and squirts some out onto his fingers, warming the gel up before rubbing a finger against Dean’s hole. He kisses his way to Dean’s cock and takes the hardening member into his mouth. Dean moans as he drools down the length, licking and sucking on it with feather-light pressure, getting him fully erect. Castiel presses his finger into Dean slowly, working the entire length inside and letting Dean adjust to the intrusion before moving it around.

“Cas,” he sighs, wiggling his hips a little. Castiel adds a second, and then a third, twisting his fingers and stretching Dean until he’s nice and loose. “Mm… Fuck. I’m ready.” Castiel sits up with an easy smile, his fingers still buried deep inside of Dean, and reaches for a condom with his free hand.

Dean sits up a little, snatching the condom from Castiel’s hand and ripping it open, tossing the wrapper to the side. He wraps his hand around Castiel’s thick cock, stroking him a few times, listening as he groans loudly, watching with a small smile as he moves his hips. Dean rolls the condom down over his cock, making sure it’s on properly, then drops back onto the bed. He spreads his thighs even wider and bends his knees.

Castiel pulls his fingers out and grabs the lube, drizzling some onto his condom-covered cock and spreading it around. He tosses the bottle to the side and braces himself above Dean, leaning down to press a kiss to his lips as he lines his cock up with Dean’s hole and pushing against his rim. Dean breaks the kiss and presses his head back into the pillow below it as he enters him, clenching down around him. “Daddy,” he gasps, locking eyes with Castiel.

Dean’s phone vibrates once, twice on the nightstand but both of them ignore it. Castiel nuzzles against his jaw, searing kisses into his skin as he slides in to the hilt. “Fuck,” he mumbles, shivering above him. “You’re so tight, baby.” Castiel pushes himself up, grabbing the pillow from the other side of the bed as he does. He slips out of Dean, ignoring his noise of protest, and nudges him until he lifts his hips.

He huffs and lets him push it underneath his hips, tugging Castiel back down over him immediately after. Castiel slides back into him in one smooth thrust that has Dean inhaling sharply and arching his back. He wraps his legs around Castiel’s waist loosely, arms following around Castiel’s abdomen. Castiel drops his head to his shoulder and neck, and kisses and licks at the available skin, rolling his hips ever so slightly.

“Fuck me,” Dean mumbles, tugging him closer until their chest are pressed together. He shudders, clenching down hard around Castiel’s cock. Castiel moans in his ear, and pulls his cock out slowly, sliding right back in at the same pace. He sets a slow, shallow pace, his big cock brushing up against almost every sensitive spot inside of Dean.

Castiel makes soft little noises of pleasure close to his ear, breathing harder than normal, clearly enjoying himself. Dean shivers, feeling the rumble from his chest with the noises he lets out. It feels so fucking good, a pleasant tingle spreading throughout his whole body, setting all of his nerves on fire.

Dean tightens his grip on him until Castiel rests more of his weight on his abdomen. Dean whimpers quietly, his hard cock trapped between both of their bellies. There’s not much stimulation on it, but it feels fucking amazing to have any kind of pressure on it. Castiel starts to pull out all the way to the tip before slamming back in, punching out little gasps from Dean’s throat. He keeps brushing and rubbing over his prostate, and Dean can already feel a tightening in his balls mere minutes into their fucking.

“Fuck,” Dean says, inhaling sharply. “‘M gonna come- fuck I’m-” Dean shudders and arches his back, tightening even further down on Castiel. The older man hums quietly into his neck, panting softly. “Shit, shit, shit- Daddy-” Dean slides his hands up Castiel’s back, digging his fingers into his hair and gripping it. He glances at the sides of Castiel’s head, and whines when he sees the dark brown and grey blending together.

“Are you going to come already, baby?” Castiel growls out softly, roughly. His words are immediately turned into a long moan as Dean clamps down on his cock and digs his nails into his back as he comes. Dean keens softly, hips jerking weakly as he ejaculates all over his belly, his semen smearing messily between them both. Castiel keeps fucking into him, his pace quickly becoming brutal. It’s overwhelming, and like an extended orgasm, and Dean is almost at his limit but he fucking loves it.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Dean manages to gasp out. “Come on, Cas.” Dean pulls his arms away and cups Castiel’s face, making him lift his head so they can lock eyes. There’s something dark and wild in Castiel’s widened eyes that’s making Dean’s spent cock and balls ache with want. “Come on, daddy, come for me.” Castiel yanks him in for a bruising kiss and his hips stutter as he comes after a few minutes, a drawn-out moan escaping from between kisses.

Castiel slows the movement of his hips, pressing himself deep inside of Dean as he rides out his orgasm. “Christ,” he rasps. “You’re going to kill me.” Dean snorts on a laugh and tucks his face into Castiel’s sweaty neck. Another long buzz breaks through their afterglow, so Castiel pushes himself up and carefully, but quickly, pulls out of Dean, both of them wincing a little. He pulls the condom off and gets off the bed, padding into the bathroom to throw it out. Dean groans as he scoots closer to the nightstand and snatches his phone up, unlocking it and pulling up his messages.

“Probably the quickest fuck of my life,” Castiel comments as he walks back into the room with a cloth in his hands. Dean chuckles and blinks down at Castiel as he tenderly cleans up Dean’s belly, wiping away the come and cleaning his cock and ass.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, his cheeks feeling warm. Castiel tosses the cloth to the side and drops onto the bed beside him, tugging Dean close to his chest.

“Who’s messaging you?” he mumbles into his ear, nuzzling against the side of his head. Castiel is always extra affectionate after they do anything sexual, and it’s really nice. Dean snuggles up against him and shows him his screen. It’s Sam, telling him that the family is having breakfast at around eight-thirty if they want to drop in. Dean glances at the time and finds that it’s almost eight. “Do you want to go?”

“I dunno,” Dean answers, tossing his phone to the side and tucking his face into Castiel’s chest. “Don’t wanna see _him_.” Castiel makes a quiet noise and kisses the top of his head.

“But what do you want?” Castiel asks against his head, his breath hot against his scalp. Dean shrugs his shoulder and sighs softly against Castiel’s skin. “Would you like to stay here and order room service? Head out to a diner and get some sickeningly greasy food?” Dean smiles into Castiel’s chest. “Or do you want to go see your family?”

“Can we stay here for a while longer?” Dean asks quietly. “Just us?”

“Room service it is,” Castiel says. He nudges Dean back and sits up, adjusting the pillows so he can lean back against the soft headboard easily. He grabs the phone from the nightstand and pauses before clicking any buttons. “What would you like to eat, lovely?”

Dean shrugs, sitting back on his heels. “Scrambled eggs and bacon.” Castiel nods and dials a number into the phone, holding it up to his ear. He orders Dean eggs and toast, and gets both of them bacon. He also gets waffles and coffee and orange juice. He hangs up when he’s done, tossing the phone onto the bed. Dean watches as Castiel turns his gaze to him, his head tilting to the side and a slightly devious expression appearing.

“Can you do me a favor?” Castiel asks, lifting his hands towards Dean.

“Sure?” Dean says. He crawls forward on the bed, settling himself between Castiel’s spread legs, holding his hands loosely.

“Warm my cock for me until the food gets here,” Castiel says, a slow smile spreading across his face. “And if you’re a good boy for me, I’ll feed you by hand.” Dean squirms a little, glancing down at Castiel’s soft cock where it’s nestled against his thigh. He licks his lips and slides down onto his belly, moving his face closer to Castiel’s crotch.

Castiel’s hand slides into his hair but he doesn’t tug Dean closer or try to force him to take his cock into his mouth. He lets him go at his own pace. Dean shuffles a little closer, stuffing a pillow under his neck and chest. He licks his lips and grasps Castiel’s cock, catching a whiff of a sort of minty-scented soap as he opens his mouth wide and takes his cock into his mouth. At least Castiel washed up. He should have thought of that before.

Dean slides his lips down to the hilt of Castiel’s cock, shivering a little as Castiel’s nails gently scrape against his head. He relaxes into it, eyes fluttering shut, his nose tucked against the trimmed hair at the base of Castiel’s cock. “Ohhh, good boy,” Castiel mumbles from above him, his voice low and rough and pleased. Dean sighs through his nose, relaxing even further, hands sliding under the pillow to rest there.

It’s mindless and a little soothing, and Dean almost falls asleep.

It’s more than a small surprise when a sharp knock sounds on their door and someone says it’s room service. Dean jolts and jerks off Castiel’s cock, glancing up at him. Castiel nudges Dean away gently, and stands, snatching up a robe from a chair and tugging it on as he walks to the door. Dean crawls under the sheets, covering himself up, looking at the ceiling. He licks his lips, his jaw and neck sore and aching from the position. He wipes his face with the back of his hand, suddenly aware of how much he’s drooled.

Castiel comes back to the bed with a cart with three trays and leaves it beside the bed. He makes sure the door is locked before tossing the robe away and carefully crawling into bed, closer to the side with the cart. He tugs Dean up into his lap and kisses his cheek. “Thank you, baby,” he murmurs into his ear. “Now, as promised,” he continues, pulling the trays a little closer to them.

He uncovers dishes to reveal the food, leaving the silver covers on the bed a couple feet away. He salts and peppers Dean’s perfectly scrambled egg, and butters his toast strips. The bacon is nicely crispy and tastes amazing. Dean feels spoiled to accept each bite from Castiel’s fingers, his face hot and no doubt red. Castiel’s eyes are soft and warm, and there’s a faint but undeniably satisfied smile on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! comment and kudo please <3


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hihihihi
> 
> pretty short chapter but i'll try to update soon!!!! <3

Reality crashes Dean back down to earth the next day. It’s the day of the baby shower, and while Dean has had his gifts picked out and wrapped for more than a few months now, he’s wondering if Jody and Bobby will even like them.

He doesn’t know if they’re even having a boy or a girl, so he got some neutral clothing for the kid. Some light pastel green and yellow clothes and hats, and a couple pairs of ridiculously tiny matching socks and mittens in a sky blue set, and a white set, both with tiny beige-brown bears. He even got a white baby blanket with tiny cute blue-green-red trains and puffs of grey smoke.

With some of the money Castiel pays him, he’s managed to find an adorable shark hooded bath towel, a matching mug set for Bobby and Jody and when the kid grows up a little more that says ‘Big Monster’ and ‘Mama’ and ‘Little Monster’ respectively. And the last thing, his favorite even if it was kind of expensive, a large elephant plushie. He’s gotten stuff mostly for the baby, and almost nothing for Jody, who’s the one actually pulling all the weight. He feels bad about that.

Dean’s hands are shaking a little as they pull up beside the blue hybrid again, and he turns the car off. The party isn’t supposed to start until two, but he and Castiel are a couple hours early. Dean clears his throat and steps out of the car, heading for the trunk to get the gift bags. Castiel comes around as well and grabs his hands before he can open the trunk.

“What?”

“Take a few deep breaths, Dean,” Castiel says gently. “You look like you’re going to be sick.” Dean closes his eyes and sways closer to Castiel, dropping his head onto his shoulder with a sigh. “What’s going on with you? You’ve been acting off all morning.”

“Worried if Jody will like the gifts,” Dean mumbles into his blazer. Castiel’s arms circle up around him, tugging him in even closer.

“Really?” Castiel asks quietly. “And your worry has nothing to do with J- _him_?” Dean bristles, and clenches his jaw tightly.

“Nothing at all,” he bites out. Castiel holds him firmly when he tries to move out of his arms, and cups his face with one hand.

“I’ll be by your side all day, okay?” he says, catching Dean’s gaze. “If you need a minute, just say you need to make a phone call to a friend.”

“And if they ask who I’m calling?” Dean mumbles.

“I doubt they will but,” Castiel smiles, “you can say you’re checking up on our dogs with Cain. Or just say a friend again. It’s none of their business anyways.” Dean sighs, squeezing his eyes shut. Castiel takes the opportunity to press a deep, lingering kiss to his lips, humming softly. “You’ll be okay, Dean.” He nods and pulls away a little, opening the trunk. They grab the bags and gift-wrapped boxes and shut the trunk before heading towards the door.

Jody opens the door as they approach, and greets them with a warm, and slightly knowing smile, that makes Dean’s cheeks warm up for some reason. She takes their gifts and sets them in the family room before pulling Dean in for a tight hug that makes the air in Dean’s lungs escape. He hugs her back just as tightly, tucking his face into her neck. She smells like the pie she’s baking and some kind of smooth, subtle perfume. She smells like how Dean’s always imagined his mom would.

Jody releases him after a good few minutes, and then grabs Castiel in a short hug too, uncaring when he attempts to protest, mostly out of surprise. “Come on,” she says, stepping away from them. “Come eat some dessert.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Dean mumbles, heading for the kitchen. Castiel chuckles from behind him, and he hears both of them follow him. Dean greets his brother and Jessica and Bobby with a passing wave, snatching a cookie off the rack and biting into it happily.

“Nice to see what’s more important,” Bobby remarks, sipping from a cup of coffee. Dean rolls his eyes a little and finishes off his cookie. “Hello, Castiel,” Bobby continues, gaze moving from Dean to the doorway where Jody and Castiel are entering.

“Hello, Mr. Singer,” Castiel replies, a pleasant, polite smile appearing. “Sam, Jessica. Good to see all of you.”

“Hello,” Jessica says, holding her hand out to shake his. Castiel indulges her and even shakes Sam’s hand when he offers it with a greeting. Dean finally mumbles out a greeting as well once he’s done his second cookie.

“Hey, Dean,” Sam suddenly says. Dean freezes and cuts his gaze over to him. “Can I talk to you for a second?” Sam sounds kind of nervous. Jessica places an encouraging hand on his forearm. Dean glances at Castiel, locking eyes with him, and nods ever so slightly.

“Come on,” Dean mutters, grabbing another cookie as he heads for the door. Sam trails after him, and they both step out onto the front porch. Dean sits down in one of the single seats, nibbling on his treat, trying to make it last so he can eat more when he doesn’t feel like talking.

“So… Castiel seems like a great guy,” Sam starts slowly. Dean grunts in response. “You look happy.”

“Thanks,” Dean mumbles. There’s silence immediately after his words, so Dean focuses on eating his cookie.

“I’m sorry,” Sam blurts out. Dean blinks a few times, lowering his hand from his mouth, and turning to look at his brother. “I’ve been- I was really shitty to you ever since I went to college and I-” Sam sighs, running a hand through his stupidly long hair. “I’m sorry, Dean. And I wanted to thank you for putting up with me as long as you did. Jess- She helped me realize that I was becoming a- a bad person and I almost lost her too and-”

Sam’s a dumbass sometimes but Dean gets it. And he’s not mad about it anymore. He’s actually really, _really_ , glad that his brother hasn’t been permanently tainted by the dumb spoiled fucks at Stanford. And Jessica sounds like a good person too. “‘pology accept, Sammy,” Dean says, taking a large bite out of his cookie and chewing with his mouth open.

Sam’s face scrunches up. “It’s _Sam_ -”

“-Don’t care-” Dean says around the cookie, making sure to show Sam all of the chewed up pieces in his mouth.

“Gross. Jerk.”

Yeah, Sammy deserves someone good like her in his life. “... Bitch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! comment and kudo please <3


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me? highkey dramatic? ..... ye

John and Kate and Adam come back from wherever they went in time for the shower. John looks like a mess, and Dean feels himself swell a little with pride. He deserved every hit, and Castiel definitely did not hold back. He stays away from his dad and his family and actually enjoys himself. There are games and food and dessert and a bunch of people Dean doesn’t know during the party. Castiel is a constant reassuring presence at his side throughout the party, and he’s glad for it. Jody coos over and loves his gifts, and even Bobby has a chuckle at the mugs.

Dean drops down onto a couch as Jody and Bobby show the last of the other guests out, chatting a little with each of them. Castiel sits down beside him, unbuttoning his jacket and throwing an arm around Dean’s shoulder. Dean tilts his head, resting his temple against Castiel’s arm, gazing at him with a slightly dopey smile.

“What?” Castiel mumbles, raising his left eyebrow. Dean leans in even closer, kicking his legs up over Castiel’s lap, wrapping his right arm around his midsection. “You alright there, Dean?” Castiel whispers to him, sounding amused.

“I love you,” Dean says, the words coming out slowly, carefully. He’s not ashamed, or hasty to say them. He means them wholeheartedly, and he wants Castiel to know that. Castiel blinks several times and leans his head back a little, his eyes wide with surprise. Almost immediately, though, his expression melts into something soft and sappy and warm and- and _loving_.

“I love you too, my sweet boy,” Castiel says softly, leaning closer to capture his lips in a chaste kiss. Dean hums quietly and tries to deepen it unsuccessfully. Castiel places his hand on Dean’s thigh, his arm tightening around his shoulders, drawing him in even closer. “I love you very much.”

“You better,” Dean mumbles between kisses. Castiel chuckles softly, barely a huff of air, and finally lets Dean deepen the kiss a little. “Mmm…”

“Gross, get a room,” Sam says as he comes into the room. Dean jolts, pulling away from Castiel, his face flushing hard.

“We had a room, you walked your giraffe legs into it,” Dean snides. Sam rolls his eyes and plops down on another couch, stretching his legs out in front of him. Dean shifts his legs off Castiel’s lap and sits properly, still leaning into him though.

Castiel leans his face close to Dean’s ear. “Hey,” he says. Dean makes a noise of acknowledgment, glancing at him from the corner of his eye. “I love you.” Dean snorts and flicks his thigh gently, his stomach fluttering with butterflies.

“Y’all are gross,” Sam mumbles.

“Shut it, Sasquatch,” Dean says.

“Pick one, Dean! Am I a moose, a giraffe, or a sasquatch?” Sam says loudly, throwing his hands up in the air. Ah, yeah, Dean was calling him a moose earlier too.

He barely takes a second to reply. “You’re a sasquaffosse.” Sam’s face scrunches up and he slumps in his chair with a slight pout and dramatically sad puppy dog eyes.

“I always suspected you were a rare creature, Sam,” Jessica says as she walks into the room. She plops down sideways in Sam’s lap with a warm smile. “You didn’t have to hide it from me. You know I’ll always accept you for you.” Dean chuckles to himself. Oh, yeah, he definitely likes her.

“Dammit, Jess,” Sam says, huffing. Jessica grins and kisses his cheek, relaxing against him. Dean leans forward to grab a cookie from the plate on the table. “At least I don’t always stuff my face and look squirrel-cheeked like Dean.” All eyes cut to Dean, and he flushes darkly, caught with a cookie in his hand.

“Dean,” Castiel says, sounding genuinely surprised. “Are you a squirrel?”

“Cas!” Dean says, sounding whiny even to his own ears. Castiel grins at him and takes the cookie from his hands, biting into it. Dean leans back into him with a huff, stealing a bite of the cookie in Castiel’s hand. Dean hums as he chews and sits up. “Gotta take a leak,” he says, standing up. He shuffles out of the room and heads for the washroom. He pees quickly and washes his hands, taking a second to lean against the sink and look at himself in the mirror.

Today has been good. Tiring, exciting, and good.

He splashes water on his face and dries off, stepping out of the washroom. As he’s walking back to the others, he comes across his dad. They both freeze and stare at each other for several seconds. John sneers at him and walks past him, muttering under his breath, “Damn faggot.”

Normally, Dean would just ignore his words. He’s done it for most of his life. But today he’s not in the mood to be insulted. He spins around to face his dad’s back and snaps out, “What the fuck did you just say?” John pauses and turns to look at him, a smirk appearing.

“What? You think just because your little sugar daddy hit me a few times you can talk back to me?” John says, stepping closer to Dean. “Watch yourself. I’ll drop you to the floor.” Dean clenches his jaw and pushes him several feet back, squaring his shoulders. “You little shit-”

Dean’s eyes widen a little as John draws back and his fist slams into the side of Dean’s mouth. He stumbles back, almost falling on his ass, and his hands shoot up to his face to touch the throbbing spot. “You ungrateful shit,” John snaps, pushing him. “I raised you, boy, show me some respect.”

“Don’t you dare,” a loud, sharp voice suddenly says from behind Dean. He glances over his shoulder to find Jody with a murderous expression. “Step away from him, John.”

“Mind your own,” John says. “He’s my son, and I’m teaching him a lesson.”

Dean inhales sharply as John grabs him by the front of his shirt and drags him in closer. He hears multiple sets of footsteps and notices the others coming around the corner to see what’s going on. Castiel is the first to see them, and Dean tenses at the thunderous expression that immediately takes over his handsome face. Ohhh, fuck, that’s even scarier than Jody’s face.

“Let go of him right now,” Castiel snarls, practically barreling into John. Dean is released and John stumbles back with surprise at the strength. Dean’s eyes widen further when he sees Castiel’s hand drifting to the back of his pants, and he quickly steps in front of him, placing his hand on his chest.

“Cas-” he tries. Castiel’s eyes are dark and angry when they turn to him, and Dean feels his heart begin to beat faster. Jesus, he looks like he wants to kill someone. “Cas, I started it. It’s my fault.” Not exactly, but Dean did rise up to the bait. Castiel grits his teeth hard enough Dean worries they’re going to crack. He inhales sharply through his nose then lowers his arm to his side as he lets the air out.

“We’re leaving,” he snaps out, grasping Dean’s arm and turning on his heel. Dena stumbles a little with surprise but finds his footing and follows him quickly.

“Yeah, walk away, you damn fags,” John says after them. He says it loud enough that everyone hears him. Castiel freezes mid-step and Jody walks up to John and slaps him across the face.

“Get the hell out of my house,” she snaps. Dean watches as John’s face turns slowly back to look at Jody, and it’s almost slow-motion the way he lifts his arm and backhands her across the face. Jody stumbles back with surprise, and Bobby storms forward, but Castiel is away from Dean in seconds and on him before Bobby can even get three feet.

Castiel slams his fist into his face so hard that there’s an audible crack. John falls on his ass and Castiel grabs him and yanks him back up, only to deliver another punch, and another, and another. Dean slowly walks over to where Bobby is now holding Jody and swallows thickly when he sees the redness on her face.

“-piece of fucking _shit_ ,” Castiel says, now. John is bleeding heavily, but no one moves to help him. Castiel’s knuckles are coated in blood too. He lets go of John and they all watch as he falls to the floor in a heap. Castiel’s hands are trembling as he straightens his back, towering over John. “I should kill you. I should put a fucking bullet in your skull and end everyone’s misery.”

Dean’s throat closes at his words. Jesus. He’s never heard him sound so cruel. Castiel turns his head, his gaze cutting over to Dean. There’s so much unsaid in his gaze, so much that makes Dena’s heart stop in his chest for a moment, and make him choke on his breath. He drops his eyes to his father as he nods his head because he knows exactly where this is going. He knows exactly what is going to come out of Castiel’s mouth.

“Lebanon, Kansas. November of 2008,” Castiel says, voice steady and calm. Dean can feel his gaze on him still. “Alastair McKnight.” Dean flinches violently at the name and inhales loudly, stepping back, bumping into the wall. John’s swollen eyes widen and he looks guilty, glancing at Dean for just a moment before looking back at Castiel.

Dean notices Bobby bristle from the corner of his eye and feels like he can’t breathe suddenly. Castiel told him about this already, but still hearing someone say his name, his full name, makes everything inside of Dean ache and tense. Threatens to give him a panic attack.

“Little bit of a struggle finding his full name,” Castiel continues, stepping away from John as he finally turns his gaze away from Dean. “Much easier to find out he paid you ten thousand dollars for each time you let him have Dean.”

“You, what?” Bobby snarls, letting go of Jody and rounding on John.

“I- I-” John can barely speak anymore. His face is so swollen and his jaw is no doubt broken.

“What does he mean by ‘let him have Dean,’ dad?” Sam suddenly asks, his tone blank, but his eyes flashing with anger. Dean winces. He forgot about Sam and Jessica. They’re standing in the doorway, out of all the commotion. Sam crosses his arms over his broad chest, eyes narrowing as he stares at John. Sam has grown a significant amount since Dean last saw him, he’s bulkier and he somehow looks even taller; his stance makes him seem incredibly intimidating.

“Fuck him,” Castiel answers bluntly. Dean’s face flames further as everyone but Castiel glances at him for a moment, then turns back to John. He’s so ashamed. “That’s what I mean.” Castiel watches Sam closely. Dean’s throat is closed but he somehow forces himself to swallow a mouthful of saliva. His bones feel like they’re quaking, and he’s trembling, his eyes stinging. Fuck, he’s so ashamed. He forces one foot in front of the other, trying to beat a hasty retreat out the front door. No one moves as he leaves, and not another word is spoken until he’s safely outside with the door closed.

He can hear raised voices inside, but he ignores them and stumbles down the porch steps to his car. He fumbles with his keys, trying to unlock his car door, but just ends up dropping the keys. He leans against the car and slides down the door, quivering and hiccuping now, trying to hold in soft sobs. He’s disgusting, and his family knows it.

He curls his knees towards his chest, tucking his head down between them and struggling to breathe. He wishes Teddy was here, or Shadow or Ghost. He wishes he could hug them and tuck his face into their fur. Before he knows it, he’s fumbling with his phone and he’s dialing Cain.

He stares at the screen through blurry eyes until an impatient, “Hello?” brings him out of his stupor. He holds the phone up to his ear, swallowing thickly and trying to form a word. “Dean? Why are you calling me?”

“I-” Dean’s voice is thick and wet, and he tries to clear his throat a little.

“Are you in trouble?” Cain asks.

“No- I-” Dean inhales slowly and clears his throat again. Cain is quiet on the other end, but Dean hears a low bark in the background. It’s followed by a creak of wood and then a low squeak as Cain sits down in a chair.

Cain clears his throat, and then speaks in a low, precise voice, “‘Winston looked round the shabby little room above Mr. Charrington’s shop. Beside the window, the enormous bed was made up, with ragged blankets and a coverless bolster. The old-fashioned clock with the twelve-hour face was ticking away on the mantelpiece. In the corner, on the gateleg table, the glass paperweight which he had bought on his last visit gleamed softly out of the half-darkness.’”

It takes Dean much too long to realize that Cain is reading a book. He’s reading him a book. Him, this once-upon-a-time fixer for some dangerous mafioso’s, is reading him a book to calm him down. Dean holds in a small laugh, and closes his eyes tightly, tucking his face down against his legs and listening as Cain continues to speak in a clear, even voice. Cain is a bastard sometimes, and while he hasn’t known him a very long time, there are those odd times he takes Dean by surprise. Just like now.

Dean listens to him until someone comes to stand beside him. Dean glances up to find Castiel staring down at him with a slight frown. He watches as he pulls his pant legs up a little and crouches, holding his hand out for Dean’s phone. He hands it to him, watching as Castiel holds it up to his ear, and a small smile turns his lips upwards. It’s a relief to see him smile, even if it’s minuscule and barely noticeable.

“Cain,” Castiel says, his voice like a soothing balm to Dean’s worries. “Thank you for reading to Dean,” Cain replies immediately, but Dean can’t hear what he says, though it makes Castiel chuckles quietly. Castiel says a quick goodbye to him, then hangs up and lowers his hand to dangle down between his bent legs with his other one. “Dean.”

“Is Jody okay?” Dean asks, chewing on his bottom lip. “Is… Is _he_...?”

“Jody is fine. Angry and wanting to murder a certain someone but fine. And he… Well,” Castiel pauses, shrugging slightly. “He’s alive.”

Dean nods slowly. That's all he needs to know right now. “Can we go back to the hotel?” Dean mumbles. He reaches around blindly and grasps his keys in his hand. “I just- I wanna go back to the hotel.”

“Of course, my love,” Castiel says softly. He stands up and holds his hand out to Dean, tugging him up to his feet. Castiel’s arms wrap around him before he can turn to open the driver’s side door, and his lips press against his left cheek, just a brush of a kiss. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah,” Dean says, swallowing. He leans into him and sighs. “... Love you too.” And god, does he mean it with all his being. He loves him so much it aches. Castiel kisses the corner of his lips, and nudges him away from the driver’s side, taking the keys from his hand. “No. You’re not driving my Baby. I’ve seen you drive. You’re a maniac.”

“Dean,” Castiel says firmly. “Get in the car. You’re tired and I’m not about to let you behind the wheel. It’s either you’re in the passenger seat, or we’re staying here for the night.” Dean grits his teeth. It’s true. He’s tired, his eyes feel heavy, and he wants to curl up and sleep this nightmare away.

“Better be careful with her,” Dean mumbles bitterly. “I’m watching you.”

“Mhmm,” Castiel hums, smiling softly at him. Dean rolls his eyes and pets his Baby’s hood as he walks around the car, murmuring that he’ll never let anything happen to her. Castiel unlocks the car and slips inside, reaching over to unlock Dean’s side and let him in. Dean climbs in as well and watches as he turns the car on, letting her idle for a couple minutes before backing out and heading towards their hotel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *The book is 1984 by George Orwell
> 
> thanks for reading! comment and kudo please <3


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'VE BEEN STUCK ON THIS CHAPTER FOR A CENTURY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! but dammit yall i finally forced something out and here!!! we!!! are!!! i hope you enjoy it and it's not too horrible. and i just wanna say that i fucken love all of you. you're all so sweet and nice and my hEART CANT TAKE THIS SORT OF KINDNESS ITS TOO WEAK
> 
> anyways sorry for the lack of updates i swear im actually trying to write

Dean wakes up sometime around two in the morning, and turns over onto his back, gazing over to the other side of the bed. Castiel is sleeping still, his expression peaceful and soft, calm in his slumber. Dean shifts his gaze to the ceiling, suddenly too awake.

There’s a soft stream of moonlight filtering through the curtains, creating a shadow across the opposite wall. Dean can hear the very muted sound of an airplane flying nearby through the open window, and the rush of wind rustling the trees.

He sits up slowly, turning his legs to hang off the side of the bed. He rests his elbows on his thighs and stares at the wall, his stomach turning. They know, all of them know what happened, and he’s not sure he will ever be able to face them again. He doesn’t know what Castiel did to his dad, or said to them after he left; hell, he doesn’t know what their real response was to hearing that he was-

Dean stands up and shuffles to the bathroom, washing his face and drying it off. He stares at himself in the mirror, jaw clenched tightly. How can he face them ever again? Knowing that they know he was stupid enough to let Alastair hurt him? The first time is one thing, he was caught off guard. But the second time? The third time? Stupid, stupid, stupid.

He should leave, get out of here, and stay away. He doesn’t want to even think about what their reactions are going to be if they see him again. If they ever want to. He steps out of the bathroom, and silently pulls clothes on and packs his suitcase with everything of his. He pockets his phone and wallet and keys from the nightstand and heads for the door as softly as possible.

“Where are you going?” Castiel says. The bed creaks as he sits up and turns on a nightstand lamp. Dean freezes, his heart beating faster, and clenches his hands into fists. “Dean?”

“For a walk,” he mutters, hoping Castiel doesn’t notice the suitcase packed up by the door. Castiel doesn’t reply, and Dean doesn’t turn around to face him. Castiel is the one person who accepted him, and Dean knows that he understands his pain. But Castiel wasn’t stupid enough to let it happen multiple times, to let himself be- be-

“Dean.” Castiel sounds worried now, and he throws the covers off and slides off the bed, walking around to stand beside Dean. “Why is your bag packed? Are you planning on leaving?” Dean shrugs one shoulder and keeps his gaze on the door. Castiel steps in front of him, and slowly reaches his hands out, cupping Dean’s face, tilting his head up and locking eyes with him. There’s worry in his gaze, and apprehension. “What’s going on in that head of yours, love?”

Right. Castiel loves his dumb ass. Dean drops his eyes to the side and shrugs again. That earns him a sigh, and then Castiel is suddenly tugging him forward, and wrapping his arms around him, his lips pressing against his temple. “Are you ready to hear what happened last night?” Castiel asks, voice low and soothing. Dean digs his nails into his palms and presses his face into Castiel’s bare shoulder.

“Stupid,” he blurts out.

“What?” Castiel asks, confused. “What’s stupid?”

“Me,” he mumbles. “I’m stupid. So stupid. I can’t- I’m so stupid-” His eyes burn and he can’t breathe properly. Castiel mumbles something that sounds like white noise to him, his heart beat pulsing to loudly in his ears for him to make out his words. Castiel tugs him even closer somehow, and presses soft kisses to his cheeks, guiding him to sit in his lap at the foot of the bed.

“You’re so smart, Dean,” Castiel murmurs right into his ear, soft and warm and sweet. “You’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met in my entire life. You’re kind and gentle and giving, and you never stop worrying about how others feel, or what they need. You’re so accommodating and open and willing to give and give and _give_. And I- I wish so badly that you could see how much I and the rest of your family loves you.”

Castiel presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth, then over his lips, momentarily stopping the quivering of his lips. “You’re so loved, and some day you will realize how much. Until then, I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure you’re happy and cared for. You’ve had such a difficult life, and you deserve to be pampered, sweetheart.”

Dean tucks his face into Castiel’s neck, squeezing his eyes shut to keep the tears at bay. “What did they say?” Dean whispers, his voice rough and shaky. “What did you do to- to him?”

“Beat him,” Castiel says, calm and straightforward. “No one blames you, Dean. We blame the sick monsters that did this. They pity you, and I know that’s not the best feeling, but they’re trying their best to understand the entire situation from before and now, and your struggles over the years, everything in between.”

Dean nods, blinking his eyes open. “Did- Did Bobby pull a gun?” Dean asks, his lips twitching a little. Castiel snorts, and nods.

“Of course,” he says with a small smile. “You knew he would. He loves you dearly, Dean, even if he doesn’t show it in the traditional way. From what I’ve seen, you’re like a son to him and Jody. They’ll do anything to protect you.”

“Bobby did protect me,” Dean whispers. “He took care of Alastair for me. He- He kept me safe.” Castiel nods again, and turns his head, pressing his lips to Dean’s forehead. “W-What about- about Sammy?”

“Sam is absolutely livid,” Castiel murmurs. Dean swallows a mouthful of saliva, his throat dry. Castiel sighs, his fingers sliding into Dean’s hair to pet his head. “He kept saying he wanted to kill your father. Jessica is the only thing that held him back from smashing his skull into the wall,” Castiel continues. Dean winces a little at the description but understands that it’s the truth. Sam most likely even stated it.

“Is he…” Dean sounds small, quiet, nervous. “Is he mad at me?”

“Of course not, love,” Castiel says immediately. “He’s horrified, and a little upset that you never told him, but he’s not mad at you. He understands that these types of situations are difficult.”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles.

“You have nothing to apologize for, honey.” Castiel kisses his forehead again.

“I’m tired.”

“Would you like to go back to sleep?” Castiel asks.

“I- don’t think I can,” Dean replies. “Can we… can we go for a drive?”

“Of course,” Castiel says. “Do you like stargazing? It’s such a calming experience to me. I think you’ll enjoy it.” Dean nods slowly.

They grab a few blankets and bundle up into warmer clothes and head outside to the Impala. Dean lets him drive again because he’s not so steady and he doesn’t want to risk anything. He does guide him to a good spot for stargazing though. It’s freezing outside, but the clothes and blankets help, and curling up on the hood of the Impala, tucked so close into Castiel’s side, is the best feeling in the world. He knows he’s safe, even out here in the middle of nowhere, with Castiel by his side.

* * *

Dean falls asleep on the hood, but is woken up minutes before the sunrise by Castiel. He’s sleepy, and his eyes are glazed, but it’s still something beautiful to watch, and he enjoys every second of it. They head back to their hotel after, and shower together. Castiel washes him from head to toe, pressing kisses to his body as he does, whispering sweet nothings and leaving warmth in his wake.

They curl up naked in bed after, still slightly damp from their shower, wet hair soaking into the pillows. Dean keeps himself tucked into Castiel’s chest, feeling cozy and safe and protected. He thinks they fall asleep but he can’t even be too sure because they don’t move. When they untangle from each other later, it’s almost evening and they’re both a little sore and numb and sleepy.

Dean feels a little better now, but there’s still that burning shame that threatens to consume him simmering just below the surface. It’s… It’s just… they all _know_. One of the worst possible things that could have happened to Dean is them finding out. And while he agreed to let them know, allowed Castiel to say something, it just… it’s so difficult for Dean to even think about looking them in the eye again, let alone being in their presence.

They share a small meal that consists mostly of breakfast foods, and Castiel steps out to take a call after while Dean curls back up under the sheets and turns the TV on to a channel playing reruns of Dr. Sexy. M.D. Castiel comes back in after twenty minutes with a slightly grim expression that immediately makes Dean sit up and turn the TV off.

“I-” Castiel clears his throat and sighs quietly. He sits down on his side of the bed, and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, tucking his hands in his hair. Dean slides over to him, reaching out to touch his arm hesitantly. “I need to go.”

“What?” Dean whispers, his stomach turning. This is going to be like the last time, he just fucking knows it. He’s going to be alone and sad, waiting at the door like an eager dog for Castiel to come back home, or worse, the phone for a call he knows will never come unless Castiel is dead.

“I’m not leaving you again, Dean,” Castiel says, sitting up suddenly. He turns to face Dean, lifting his leg onto the bed in a bent position. “I didn’t say that right,” Castiel continues, sighing. “I meant that we need to go. From here. As soon as possible.”

“What’s going on?”

“Just-” Castiel shakes his head. “I’ll explain later.” Dean hesitates for a moment, then nods slowly. “Good. Cain will meet us in Des Moines, Iowa, and from there we’ll all head to Silver City, Idaho.”

“Silver City?” Dean says, confused. “Isn’t that a ghost town?” Castiel’s lips turn upwards for a brief moment before something dark takes over.

“It appears that way doesn’t it?” he says thoughtfully. “One of the two men I’m after is hiding there. This is one of the rarest moments I have to kill him, and I will do it regardless of whether or not you get your ass in gear and follow me.”

Dean clenches his jaw and nods. “I’ll follow you, Cas,” he says, sincere. “Always.”

“Dean,” Castiel says, grabbing his hand quickly as he turns to climb off the bed. Dean freezes and glances over at him, confused. “This is going to be dangerous, even more so because Cain just informed me that he-” Castiel clears his throat. “He had one of his men murder the other man.”

“Does this mean… that we’re going after the last guy that hurt you?” Dean replies. Castiel hesitates, then nods slowly. “Can’t wait to bash his face in.” Castiel blinks with surprise and his grip on Dean’s hand slacks. Dean slips off the bed and grabs anything he unpacked from his suitcase, tossing it all back in and getting dressed in some fresh clothes while he’s at it.

He helps Castiel pack up his things quickly, and after a thorough once-over of the room, they take the elevator down to get the car. Everything is packed into the trunk and Dean practically speeds out of the underground parking, heading for the highway. He reaches across the bench seat and grabs Castiel’s hand, gripping it tightly, keeping his gaze on the road even as he feels Castiel’s eyes slide over to him.

“I will keep you safe, Dean,” he says, soft and warm. “Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! comment and kudo please <3


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hihi! pls enjoy!! i love each and every single one of you so much. and i gotta ask that u dont murder me yet for this chapter pls and ty <3
> 
> **[spoilers]** i’ma leave a warning here for meg who comes in and kisses cas briefly on the lips. it’s not megstiel and will not progress into megstiel.

It doesn’t take too long to get to Des Moines, Iowa, and the only reason it takes them as long as it did is because they stop for a good hour to grab some food in a sixties-style diner in the middle of nowhere. Cain tells them to head to a fancy little hotel in the downtown area and have the valet named Andre park their car. It makes Dean’s skin crawl that some random dude is driving his baby but he lets it go because there are more important matters. Cain has a bellhop named Matt take them up to the top floor. The fact that he has to tell them the exact people is a little worrisome.

Matt leaves them with their bags in front of a door, and nods once at Castiel before heading back towards the elevator. Castiel makes them stand there until Matt is gone, and even then, has to make sure the coast is clear before he even knocks on the door. Cain takes a few moments to answer, and immediately ushers them into the room. They leave theirs bags in the corner behind the door.

“Hello,” he says once the door is closed. He twists all the locks and props a chair under the handle. Castiel hesitates for a moment then steps forward and pulls Cain in for a tight hug. It makes the hardness around Cain’s eyes soften, and his lips turn ever so slightly up. He hugs him back, patting his back a couple times.

“How are you, Cain?” Castiel asks, finally pulling away from him.

“Well,” Cain replies. “And you, Cas?”

“I’m good,” Castiel says, shrugging one shoulder.

“Your knuckles look bruised,” Cain says, not even dropping his eyes to look down at his hands. “What have you two been up to?” Cain’s gaze slides over to Dean now, and his eyebrow lifts up curiously. Dean drops his eyes and turns away, intent on staring out the balcony windows across the room.

“Taking care of business,” is all Castiel says. “What’s the plan from here on out?” The change of subject doesn’t go unnoticed by Cain, who clears his throat sharply. Cain steps around Castiel and heads deeper into the suite, sitting down on a couch, gesturing to the rest of the seats for them. They sit down on a loveseat adjacent to Cain.

“We’ll be visiting the Reaper for weaponry, and obtaining two non-descript vehicles from our inventory before heading up through the south of Silver City,” Cain says. “My sources tell me he’s hiding up in the northern area with several dozen men on a small abandoned farmhouse. Regardless, we’ll take out his men and grab him. My men will set a perimeter around the area and then he’s yours to torture or kill however you like, Castiel.”

“Good,” Castiel replies. He turns his gaze from Cain to stare out a set of windows, thoughtful. “Do you know how many men there will be? Who will be our backup?”

“Roughly forty to sixty men guarding the house,” Cain says. “And our backup is on the way. They should be here soon. We’ll be heading out as soon as they arrive. I suggest you get ready; both of you.” Cain turns his gaze to Dean for a brief moment, his eyes sharp and penetrating, not unlike Castiel’s. Even though they aren’t related, Dean can definitely see where Castiel gets it from, most likely because they’ve spent so much of their lives together.

“I need to change,” Castiel says, standing up. He glances at Dean, his eyes serious and dark. “Will you be alright?” Dean glances at Cain for a brief second, then turns his eyes back to Castiel, and nods.

“I’ll be fine, Cas,” he says, shooting him a slight smile. Castiel hesitates a moment, then nods once.

“I’ll be back.” He walks back over to the front door and collects his bags before heading for the bathroom. Dean watches him go, reluctant to look away and turn his attention back to Cain. He doesn’t seem like a rude person, or mean or anything of the sort, but Dean doesn’t know him well still and it feels a little awkward. Plus there was the other day when he called him crying. God, he's embarrassing.

“How long have you been together?” Cain asks suddenly. Dean jolts and turns to look at him, his face feeling warm. Cain just blinks at him, raising an eyebrow curiously. Another thing Castiel must have picked up from him.

“Uhm,” Dean clears his throat. “Several months ago.”

“How did that happen?’ Cain continues.

“Just-” Dean shrugs. “Happened upon each other. He helped me when I was down, and… well… Here we are.”

Cain nods slowly, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “And how did he get those bruises?” Dean’s throat tightens, and he drops his gaze to his legs. “They’ve faded over the days but from the looks of it they must have happened around the time you called me. Am I correct?”

“Yes,” he says, his voice small and barely there. It’s all his fault Castiel is hurt. That everything this past week happened. He knows it, and he hates himself for it. He knows he’s caused problems for Castiel, more than he needs. He has plenty of his own, and he deals with them by himself too, but Dean is stupid and can’t fix his own problems.

“You’re in deep thought,” Cain intones. “Care to share?”

“No,” Dean says immediately. He hesitates, and clears his throat again. “It’s my fault he’s got the bruises. I- I was stupid.” Cain hums quietly, but doesn’t say or do anything else. “I was stupid,” he repeats, firmer about it.

“We’re all stupid sometimes,” Cain says. “Somehow, however, I don’t believe you were the stupid one in this scenario.” Dean glances at him, and is surprised to see the slight hint of a smile. “You can be a lot like Castiel. He likes to blame himself for things out of his control too. You should watch out for that.” Cain stands up, adjusting his clothing. “Change if you need to, and make sure you’re ready for a fight. We’re moving in on them as soon as we’re there,” Cain continues. He walks in the direction of the kitchen. “And Dean?” he pauses and glances over his shoulder.

“Yeah?” Dean looks over at him.

“I know for a fact it wasn’t your fault,” Cain says, a wicked gleam appearing in his eyes. “If you’re ever curious to know where he is, give me a call.” He doesn’t say anything more, and turns to walk away, disappearing around a corner. Dean blinks for several long seconds, contemplating his answer. He couldn’t have, right? Bobby took care of that piece of shit, right? How could Cain have known? Maybe he’s talking about something else. Not likely, of course, but maybe.

“Dean?” Castiel says from beside him. Dean snaps his head up, his lips parting when he sees the silky-soft looking black suit Castiel is wearing. It’s not like he hasn’t seen him in a suit before, because he definitely has, and he’s always loved it, but this one is somehow different. It’s sharper, but also softer, it’s looser but also somehow seems to fit him perfectly. It’s definitely worn, and- Oh. Is this his “work” suit? “Is something wrong, love?”

“No,” he says, standing up. “You look good.”

Castiel chuckles and tugs him into his arms, his hands sliding slowly down Dean’s back to cup his ass cheeks and bring him in even closer. “Thank you, sweetheart,” he murmurs, leaning in to press a deep kiss to Dean’s lips. Dean groans and sinks into it, slumping a little against him. He slides his hands into his blazer and bristles at the straps he finds in the way of his dress shirt. He breaks the kiss and drops his gaze, lifting his blazer apart and staring down at the black suspenders attached to his pants. “What?”

“You’re- You- Suspenders-” he manages to get out.

“Yes?” Castiel replies, confused. “I don’t understand. They’re useful.”

“Yeah, but- I- I- I’ve never seen you wear them before.”

“Oh.” One of Castiel’s hands comes up and cups his jaw, lifting his head up so they can lock eyes. “Is that a problem?” he asks slowly, studying Dean’s face intently. “Or do you- Oh. _Oh_.” Something dawns on Castiel after a second, and a sharp smile suddenly appears on his face. His hand lets go of Dean’s face and drops back down to his ass. He squeezes his cheeks tightly and draws his hips closer. “Do you like suspenders, darling?”

“Yes,” he mumbles, his cheeks feeling warm. “Especially on you.” He looks down again and swallows thickly. They look damn good. He can only imagine getting Castiel in a sexy situation and happening upon them at the moment. Like watching him loosen his tie and unbutton his collar, and teasingly take off his blazer to reveal a set of suspenders. Dean shudders a little, his dick twitching where it’s pressed against Castiel’s hip.

“Someone’s very excited,” Castiel mumbles, leaning in for another kiss. He chuckles against Dean’s lips, a dark and promising huff of amusement. “Perhaps when this is all over and we’re home, I’ll fuck you in a full suit, sweetheart. Hmm? Would you like that?” he asks between kisses. Dean whimpers quietly. “Yeah,” he breathes. “Of course you would. My dirty little boy, aren’t you?” Dean makes a quiet nose in reply. “Say it,” he growls. “Tell me you’re my dirty boy.”

“I’m your dirty boy,” Dean whispers, letting out a little moan as Castiel squeezes his ass cheeks and bites his bottom lip, letting it slide out from between his teeth.

“Good boy,” Castiel practically purrs. “My good boy.”

Someone clears their throat loudly, and Dean jolts, jumping away from Castiel and spinning around to face the person. Cain is standing several feet away with an amused grin and crossed arms. Oh, for fucks sake. Dean’s face is on fire right now, and he can’t look Cain in the eye. Fuck, how much did he hear? “Right in my living room, boys? Really?” he says, falsely disapproving.

“It’s not my fault he’s gorgeous,” Castiel replies, wrapping an arm around Dean’s waist and pulling him in tightly to his side. Castiel glances over at him, and presses a kiss to his temple, huffing another quiet laugh. “Very shy, but definitely gorgeous.” Dean groans to himself and nudges him away.

“I’ll be back,” he says, spinning on his heel and heading to the bathroom, which is only known to him because the door is slightly open. He steps inside and closes it, turning the lock on the handle before he even turns the lights on. How embarrassing. He can’t believe they got caught. How much did Cain even see, or _hear_ , before he cleared his throat? Dammit all.

He washes his face and dries it off with a towel, taking a few deep breaths to calm himself. It’s not that big of a deal, maybe he just got there at the end. He’ll forget about it, and everything will be fine. He shouldn’t worry so much, he knows, but he’s so paranoid about everything now. So ashamed.

He sighs heavily and cleans up any water around the sink before unlocking the door and turning the light off. He opens the door and steps out just as a series of knocks falls on the front door. He freezes and watches as Cain immediately heads for the door, and Castiel steps around the corner, just out of sight, but ready in case of something. He stays where he is because he’s the safest and unseen.

“Backup is here,” Cain says as he begins to unlock the door and move the chair away. Castiel relaxes and steps away from the wall, heading over to Dean. Cain opens the door and ushers several people inside before relocking the door and putting the chair under the handle. “Did you get here okay?” he asks them as they step around the corner.

“Got here fine,” a dark-haired female says with a shrug. She turns her gaze over to Castiel and a grin appears on her face. “Clarence!” she says, dropping her duffel bag to the floor and striding over to him, grabbing him in a big hug. Castiel laughs and lifts her up off the floor, hugging her back just as tightly. They pull apart and the female grabs Castiel’s cheeks, planting a big kiss on his lips.

Dean’s heart stops for a brief moment, especially since the sun is now glinting off of a classy little ring that happens to be on the woman’s left ring finger. Oh no. No, no, no. “How are you, Meg?” Castiel asks warmly when they pull apart; though they’re still wrapped up in each others arms. It’s like he’s completely forgotten about Dean and that stings like a fucking bitch.

Meg says something to Castiel but Dean isn’t listening anymore. He glances at Cain, and finds him watching the pair with a slight frown. Cain’s gaze slides over to him when he feels eyes on him, but Dean can’t get a read on his guarded expression. Dean clenches his jaw tightly and heads for the bedroom Castiel had disappeared into earlier. He sets down on the bed and buries his hands in his hair, clenching tightly and glaring down at the floor.

Is Castiel married to this woman? Is he cheating on her with Dean? Does she know about Dean? Are they in love? Was Dean just a little fling? Something to tide Castiel over until his pretty little wife appeared back in his arms? Jesus, Castiel never seemed like the type of person to marry and cheat on someone, but does Dean really even know him? How could he just kiss her like that in front of him? Granted, it was more like an irritatingly long peck between friends than the slight makeout session he just had with Dean, but it’s disgustingly similar to a kiss between people who have been in a relationship for years. A quick kiss to say hello. Like what Dean has given Castiel before when he’s come home after going shopping for groceries, or when Castiel drops a random kiss on his lips when he passes him in the hallway.

Fuck him and everything in his life. Dean should have remembered he wasn’t worth any of this.

This is the shoe. This is the other shoe he had stopped waiting for to drop. It’s finally fallen, slamming into Dean from the back and kicking him to the curb. He should’ve known, everything was too good to be true. Dean finding someone who genuinely cared about him? Ha. Bullshit.

_He should have fucking known._

He wants to scream the words at himself, but he can’t even bring himself to open his mouth. He’s not sticking around to watch them catch up with each other. Hell no. He’s leaving. He’s getting the fuck out of here.

He drops his hands and lifts his head. Dean catches sight of himself in the mirror across the room. He’s not crying, his face isn’t red; he looks dead, like he’s given up on everything and nothing matters and he’d rather die. Exactly how he feels. Perfect.

He stands up and pulls his phone out, then pauses, clenching it tightly and glaring down at the gleaming black screen. Castiel gave him this phone. This phone that he can’t even use to call anyone in his family because he fucked that up too and they all know his dark secret and he can’t even bear the thought of looking any of them in the eye, let alone being in their presence or speaking to them.

Dean chucks it as hard as he can against the wall and watches as it crashes and breaks into a bunch of pieces, falling to the floor. The conversation in the other room immediately stops, and seconds later Castiel pops up in the doorway with a concerned expression. He steps slowly into the room, glancing at the broken phone and then back at Dean.

“Dean? What happened? Did you break your phone?” he asks. Dean clenches his jaw tightly and slowly turns to look at him. Behind him, Cain appears in the doorway, followed by some random tall dude Dean didn’t catch the name of and Meg. Perfect looking Meg that has a ring on her finger and kissed Castiel. “Did something-”

Dean pushes past Castiel, cutting him off, and storms out of the room. He snatches up his bag, tossing it over his shoulder as he kicks the chair under the door handle to the side. “Dean-” Castiel tries to start from over his shoulder, reaching a hand out and touching his shoulder. Dean pushes him back and shoots him a glare that makes him freeze. “Dean, what’s wrong? What happened?”

“Fuck you,” is all he says. He unlocks the door and yanks it open, storming down the hall to the door to the stairs. He skips down the steps to the main floor and bursts through the door, breathing a little heavier with slight exertion and anger. He spots the valet that took his keys, and storms over to him. “I want my car keys.”

“Sir, I’m not allowed to give you them until the mission is complete,” the man says in a low voice.

“Give. Me. My. Keys,” Dean snarls. The man hesitates, then pulls Dean’s keys from his pocket and hands them to him. The elevator door dings and Dean glances behind himself, spotting Castiel stepping out. Fuck. He doesn’t want to see him and his stupid cheating ass. Jesus, he doesn’t even know for sure but he does know that he doesn’t care because he kissed her and he shouldn’t have fucking kissed her. Or let her kiss him. He doesn’t care. _Fuck._

Dean quickly walks out the doors, heading for the parking lot. He immediately spots his baby at the end of the lot and ducks between a few cars to dodge Castiel as he heads for his car. He checks there is no one around him or inside the car before getting the driver’s seat and tossing his bag in the passenger seat. He turns his car and backs out of the parking spot, driving past Castiel as he heads for the exit. He hears him shout his name but doesn’t pay it any mind.

He’s driving to Castiel’s house, grabbing his shit, and heading for- He has nowhere to go. He has no one he can stay with that doesn’t know about his stupid fuck-up. He’s on the streets then.

Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ty for reading ma dudes!!! pls leave a kudo if u havent and a comment to tell me ur thoughts!!! <3 ;)


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone im sry for being dramatic and for the ppl who didn’t like meg last chapter. pls don’t hate me bc i luv all of u very much. ty for reading it makes me so happy when i read your thoughts in the comments and see ur kudos and bookmarks and everything <3
> 
> also did y’all realize i first posted this abt a year ago bc dAMN TIME FLIES. ty for sticking with me this long though. i only wish i was able to formulate my thoughts better and write quicker. but srsly thanks so much mi friends

He makes sure no one follows him, but it’s pointless because no one actually bothers. He gets it. His stupid tantrum isn’t as important as Castiel finding the last piece of shit that hurt him. He can’t stop replaying the kiss in his head. He can’t stop thinking about how much better she probably is for him. How much less baggage she has.

He ponders it all the way back to Kansas, and even as he packs his things into his bags. The dogs aren’t there, otherwise he probably would have taken Teddy with him, at the very least. No, no, actually he’d snatch them all up because he’s past giving a shit about dog hair in his car and he loves each and every one of them.

The house phone rings multiple times, and he knows it’s because Castiel knows he’s home. The stupid security system must have alerted his phone. Goddamn alarm systems. He doesn’t answer the phone and gets out of the house as soon as he can. He takes a few minutes to buy some necessities and fill up gas so he has a full tank.

He’s careful to make sure that Castiel doesn’t send anyone to follow him, though he doesn’t know why he does. Clearly Castiel doesn’t care about him enough. Not as much as his wife anyways. Is she even his wife? Or just his fiance? Dean doesn’t know. He never noticed a wedding band, or even a shadow of one on Castiel’s hand, but he could have just missed it. Or blinded himself with hope.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Dean doesn’t stop driving until he’s safely across the country from where they should be in Idaho right now. The moment he decides to settle down in the random town he’s in, he starts yawning every minute and notices that it’s completely dark outside. He checks into a shady motel in a very shitty area and locks himself in his room, occasionally checking on his baby to make sure she’s okay. He showers and scrubs himself clean, trying to forget the way Castiel’s hands felt on his skin.

Maybe he’s overreacting, or he guessed the situation wrong. But he doesn’t appreciate watching Meg kiss Castiel. He’s stupid to think that Castiel would actually want to be with a used up whore like him. He’s worthless, he’s always known it; he just temporarily forgot it when Castiel was pretending to love him.

His dad was right. No one could really love him.

He curls up on top of the bed, doesn’t bother turning the sheets down, and stares at the wall for the rest of the night. He wonders if he’s going to get any sleep tonight, or he’s just going to keep remembering the way he held her and let her kiss him and how happy he looked to see her.

* * *

Apparently, he sleeps, because he jolts awake when he hears a door slam shut above him. He looks around wildly, but doesn’t see anything wrong with his room, or hear anything further from upstairs or outside. He groans and drops back down onto the bed, blinking up at the ceiling. The clock on the wall says it's half-past eleven in the morning.

He feels like shit.

And he hates everything.

Though forgotten for a period of time that involved a certain person, the feelings are nothing new to him. Thinking about him and his stupid pretty face makes Dean want to cry. The backs of his eyes sting but he adamantly refuses to let his eyes well up with tears. Though, now that he’s slept on it, he feels even more stupid for overreacting the way he did.

He could have just asked, or pulled Castiel aside and told him he doesn’t want him to kiss her. Of course, that would depend on if Castiel was actually married to her or not. Which he has no idea about. But they probably are. Fuck it all.

He gets up to wash his face and brush his teeth and take a piss, but doesn’t do much else for the day. He checks on his car a few times, to make sure no one touched or damaged her. The rest of the day is spent curled up in the bed, staring at the ceiling or napping because the big box TV is broken. He paid for five days, and he is certainly going to be here for that long. Maybe even longer, depending on how he feels.

* * *

He spends the next three days doing absolutely nothing besides sleeping and showering. The surprisingly hot water the motel has is the only thing that soothes him for his ten minute showers. He ignores the housekeeper besides telling them to go away when they show up to clean his room between twelve and three. He checks on his car and sleeps, and thinks about what Castiel is doing, or his family, or _Meg_. Or what Meg and Castiel are doing together.

He thinks about what Cain said to him. About wanting to know where “he” is. He knows exactly who he’s talking about, or he thinks he does, and he wants to know if he’s alive somehow, or dead. How he died. If he suffered. Does Bobby know Cain? Did he hire him to kill Alas- _that bastard_? Dean has so many questions, and they would have been answered if he hadn’t stormed out of the apartment like a child. Like an idiot.

He doesn’t eat anything, but he’s not hungry, and he can’t even think about taking a bite of anything. He drinks water, because he’s thirsty, but that’s it. He remembers he brought his laptop with him, but he doesn’t want to turn it on, or even look at it because Castiel got it for him. Castiel got him most of his things, even his money.

A sharp knock falls on his door, and he sits up a little, glancing at the clock with a groan. Two thirty. “Go away,” he yells, dropping back down on the bed. This housekeeper situation is getting annoying. How many times does he have to say go away before they remember he doesn’t want them to come clean his fucking room. Another knock comes on the door, and he briefly wonders if he’s overstayed his payday. No, it’s only day three. There are five days.

He gets up with a groan but he can’t even check who is there because there’s no peephole and the window isn’t close enough to the door. He unlocks it and yanks it open, ready to tell the housekeeper to leave him alone, when he notices that it’s definitely not an employee.

It’s Castiel. And he looks damn good in a charcoal grey suit and white dress shirt and dark red tie. He is absolutely gorgeous and Dean aches to bury himself in his arms and hide and let him soothe his thoughts away.

“How did you find me?” he says instead, gripping the door tightly. Castiel stares at him silently, his expression empty and penetrating, eerily similar to the one Dean remembers seeing on him at the park, in the living room with those men.

“May I come in?” Castiel asks. And god, his voice. Dean missed his voice so much. He forgot how deep it was, and rough, and warm, and sweet, and loving. Of course, this isn’t that. He sounds cold, dead, detached. He sounds like his expression looks. Empty.

“How did you find me?” Dean repeats instead, clenching his jaw.

“I tracked your credit card. Now, may I come in?” Castiel answers, tilting his head slightly to the side. Dean huffs and steps to the side so he can step in. He closes and locks the door once he’s inside. “Why are you in the worst motel I’ve ever seen? There are plenty of other places in town you could have chosen.”

“What? Did you come here just to make me feel bad for the fucking motel I chose?” Dean snaps. Castiel’s gaze shoots over to him, and his left eyebrow raises, his eyes narrowing. “Don’t look at me like that, you asshole.”

“Excuse me?” Castiel growls, straightening his back and turning to face Dean fully. “I came to ask you what your problem is, Dean. I thought this was about a message you received but I was wrong. I came here to ask what I did to you to make you so angry.”

Dean opens his mouth, then snaps it shut again, clenching his jaw and grinding his teeth. “Get the fuck out. It doesn’t matter,” he says instead of what he wants to. He wants to tell him why he’s mad, to ask him why he let her kiss him, to ask him why he’s not good enough. Dean walks around him and drops down face-first onto the bed, tucking his face into the comforter that smells like his body wash now, refusing to lift his head.

His eyes sting, and he feels his eyes well up with tears. A tear slips down his face and soaks into the fabric of the motel comforter. He wants to cry because Castiel is here, and he took the time to come down and find him and Dean is stupid and he definitely overreacted and he knows it and he’s mad and ashamed and he wants to-

“Dean.” He bristles at the softness that has appeared in Castiel’s voice and holds his breath. Castiel’s shoes are quiet as he walks around the bed and sits down next to Dean’s legs at the foot of the bed. “Can you tell me what I did, Dean, please?”

“You kissed her,” he says. His voice sounds disgustingly wet. “Why’d you kiss her?” Castiel is strangely quiet for a few minutes, then he hears a heavy sigh.

“Meg is my best friend, Dean,” he says. And doesn’t that just hurt more.

“Then why are you here?” Dean snaps before Castiel can say anything else. “Go back to your best friend-wife.”

“My… my _what_?” Castiel says, surprised. “My _wife_?” he repeats the word like it’s foreign. “Dean, I’m not married and I’ve never been married. Why-” Castiel cuts himself off with a deep breath. “Dean, she kissed me because it’s something we’ve always done. I met her years upon years ago, back when everything started. She’s my closest friend and we have always greeted each other with a kiss.”

“I’m sorry,” Dean mumbles, even more ashamed. “I’m stupid.”

“No, you’re not, my love,” Castiel says, soft and warm and everything Dean has wanted to hear in the last few days. “I should have told you about her, but I didn’t even know she was coming with us on the mission. I was surprised and didn’t even think when I saw her. I’m sorry I upset you so, Dean, I had no intentions of.”

“I’m stupid,” he repeats. “I should’ve just asked. Why am I so stupid?” The question comes out quieter than the rest of his words and is followed by a quiet sob.

“Oh, love,” Castiel says, climbing onto the bed and lying down beside him. He rests his head on a pillow and tugs Dean against his chest, tucking him inside of his jacket with him and pressing a warm kiss to his head. “You’re not stupid. You were blinded by confusion and anger. It’s my fault. I should have said something. I should have realized. I shouldn’t have kissed her. I’m so sorry, Dean.”

Another quiet sob slips past his lips and he tucks his face even closer to Castiel’s chest, inhaling his scent and whimpering a little. He smells good, he always smells good. “Oh, my Dean, I didn’t mean to distress you.” Castiel slides down the bed so he can tug Dean’s face away from his chest and press a kiss to his forehead and his closed eyes and his cheeks and the tip of his nose. “Please forgive me, Dean.”

Dean’s an overdramatic bitch and he knows it. He tucks himself right back into Castiel’s chest and hides there until he stops crying, and sniffling, and eventually falls asleep. He doesn’t want to think about how stupid he was. About how paranoid and how fast he jumped to conclusions. It’s nothing new. He’s pathetic.

When he wakes up it’s to the same position, tucked safely and warmly in Castiel’s arms. Castiel isn’t sleeping. He’s awake and staring at the wall with a thoughtful expression. He blinks a few times and looks down at Dean when he realizes he’s awake and smiles hesitantly. “Hey,” he mumbles.

Dean looks down and leans back into him. “Hi,” he says. “I’m sorry,” he continues, because he’s full of guilt and hatred and anger. Because he feels like he fucked something up, and ruined what Castiel has wanted for years. Did they even finish their mission? Did he even get his justice?

“I am too,” Castiel says. “This last week has been so hard for you, Dean. And I- I understand why seeing me with Meg upset you so much. I never meant to hurt you, my love. I have no feelings for her like I do for you, and I never have. She is my friend, one that had helped me almost as much as Cain did when I got out of that place. Granted, I haven’t spoken to her much in the last few years, but I still remember how much she aided me when I was down, on more than several occasions.”

Castiel sighs into his hair and presses a kiss to the top of his head. “Meg is married to one of the other men you saw there the other day. Marcus - that’s her husband - and her have been together for almost as long as I’ve known her. I know what I did, and allowed to happen, was hurtful to you, but I can’t go back in time and change it. I will never kiss her again, I can promise you that. I will never cheat on you, Dean, ever. That is not something I am okay with.”

“I know,” Dean mumbles in reply, his words somewhat muffled by Castiel’s clothes. “I- I just- After everything- I just- I don’t deserve you, Cas. You’re too good for me. You- You- You deserve someone better than me, someone who isn’t dumb and won’t get mad about a stupid kiss between friends, or cry about dumb shit, or act like a stupid brat, or- or- or-”

“There’s no one else that I want, Dean,” Castiel says, cupping his jaw and gently pushing his face back so he can see his face. Dean hesitantly looks up at him, his gaze blurred. He’s an emotional wreck, with so much baggage, and he doesn’t get why Castiel wants him so much. “You are who I want, problems and all. Dean, I- I have so many problems too. I’m fucked up too. I’m a fixer for God’s sake. I cover up crimes, I commit murder. I torture people. I am a bad person, and you somehow found a way to love me, and I can’t thank you enough for that.”

“You’re a good person, Cas, you never wanted to do this,” Dean says. He pushes himself up to a sitting position, sniffing wetly and rubbing his face to clear away the itchy tear tracks. “You were forced to be this- this fixer because of those bastards.”

“It doesn’t matter, Dean. I- I’ve done so many things that I wasn’t forced to. I’ve hurt so many people that I could have just chosen to hide from the world instead, to send away to different countries to start new lives. I chose easy ways out of situations because I wanted to save myself and my friends over strangers who also mattered to people that I just never met,” Castiel says. “I’m not a good person. I’m not a good friend. I’m not good.”

“You know what they say,” Dean tries, “two negatives equal a positive.”

Castiel snorts and a small, sad smile appears on his face. “You’re the light at the end of my tunnel, Dean, and I can’t bear the thought of ever losing you. No one is perfect, but you’re damn near close to everything I’ve ever wanted.”

“Close?” Dean says, a small grin appearing. “What am I missing?”

Castiel huffs quietly and tugs him back down roughly, hugging him tight against his chest. Dean can’t help the laugh that bubbles forth and snuggles right into his chest. “I think you’re missing the panties, I can’t be sure at the moment,” Castiel says, sounding amused. Dean rolls his eyes to himself and pokes him in the side. “Ouch.”

Both of them are silent for a few minutes. Dean stares out the window, the drapes covering most of his view. “You are a good person,” he says. “I don’t wanna lose you either.” He sits up, moving his leg across Castiel’s hips to straddle his waist. He looks down at him, his hands on either side of Castiel’s shoulders.

Castiel looks up at him with a small smile and a curiously raised eyebrow. Dean bites his inner cheek, hesitating. “What?” Castiel asks, tilting his head. “I can see those gears turning.”

“Did I-” Dean sits up, resting his ass back against Castiel’s legs. He looks out the window again, picking at the hard skin on the sides of his fingers. “Did I ruin your mission? Did you get him?”

“Oh.” Castiel props himself up on his elbows. Dean can feel his eyes on the side of his face. “We proceeded with the mission to capture him,” Castiel says in a neutral tone.

“And?” Dean says when he doesn’t continue. He turns to look at him, his stomach twisting. “Is he…?”

“No. Not yet,” Castiel replies. “He’s safely secured and has been transported to one of my private facilities, but he’s not dead. He will be eventually, once he feels the pain and grief that I have for years and years.” Castiel reaches his right hand up, supporting his weight on his left elbow, and brushes the back of his fingers against Dean’s stubble-coated cheek. “It’s why it took me so long to come to you.”

Dean nods, and his eyes drop down to Castiel’s lips. They’re plump and pink, and a little chapped. He wants to kiss him, he wants to feel his lips on Castiel’s, he wants to taste his mouth and shiver when Castiel dominates the kiss and makes him feel like he’s worth something. But the last time he kissed him was before he kissed her.

He hates that he kissed her. He’s not allowed to kiss her. Or anyone. Dean wants him all to himself, and that’s selfish, and he doesn’t care.

Dean lifts his gaze back to Castiel’s eyes and sees the guilt lingering in their depths. “I’m sorry,” Castiel says, knowing. “I-” He sighs softly, and drops back down onto the bed. “I know what you’re thinking. I know I fucked up, Dean. I’m so sorry.” He tosses his forearm across his eyes and sighs again. “I’m the stupid one here, not you.”

Dean hesitates for a moment longer, then leans down and presses a small kiss to his lips. Castiel lifts his arm to peek up at him and frowns slightly. “Dean?”

“I overreacted,” he mumbles. “I was just-” raw from every that had happened in the last week and a half and wanted to get mad and blame everything that made him angry on the fact that this Meg person had planted a short kiss on Castiel.

“I know,” Castiel says quietly. Castiel covers his eyes again and lets out a soft groan. Dean places his hands on his chest, sliding them down his sides and to his- Wait! Dean lifts his jacket and blazer and feels his eyes widen when he catches sight of another set of suspenders.

“Cas!” Dean inhales sharply and squirms a little, licking his lips. Castiel drops his arm and looks at him with a little concern, that immediately dissolves into a wicked little grin when he sees what Dean’s trying to intently focus on.

“Do you like them? I thought you might.”

“You can’t do that to me, man,” Dean mumbles, biting his bottom lip as he stares at the red suspenders. They perfectly match his tie and the handkerchief neatly tucked into the outer breast pocket of his blazer. “You can’t just show up here in a _nice_ suit with _suspenders_ and not tell me!”

Castiel flips them so Dean’s flat on his back with Castiel tucked between his thighs, pressing their hips insistently together, and staring down at him with a dark gaze. “But I did,” Castiel replies in a low tone. Dean hums softly, wrapping his legs around Castiel’s hips and ass. “What are you going to do about it, my sweet boy?”

“Kiss you,” Dean says, smiling at the surprise that flashes across Castiel’s gaze. “Because you’re mine to kiss and only mine.”

“You’re very possessive,” Castiel replies with a chuckle. He leans down anyways and nudges his nose against Dean’s almost curiously. Dean takes it upon himself to close the distance and kiss him, sighing softly into his mouth. There’s something about kissing Castiel that is both relaxing and arousing.

“Is that a problem?” Dean finally whispers when they pull apart enough.

“Never,” Castiel whispers right back, kissing around his lips, over his chin and jaw and cheeks, before returning the plunge his tongue right back into Dean’s mouth and map out the entirety of it with his tongue. Dean hums quietly, his heart beating faster as blood starts to pump through his body. “I like that you think I’m worth being possessive over.”

“Of course you are,” Dean says. “Fuck, I love you.” Dean doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of saying that, of making sure Castiel knows how he feels, how much he means to him. Castiel smiles down at him, his eyes soft and warm.

“I love you too. Very, very, very much.” Dean flushes at his words, and slides his hands around Castiel’s back under his blazer, humming to himself as he feels the suspenders.

“When are you going to fuck me in your suit, daddy?” he whispers, watching as Castiel’s gaze darkens and his lips press together.

“Not here,” he says, voice low and silky smooth. “I’m going to take you home, lay you out on our bed, and have my way with you. I’m going to make you come multiple times, and then when you’re trembling and begging, I’m going to sink into your perfect little hole slowly. I love when you beg me, sweetheart, and I’m going to make you beg me over and over and over before I fuck you.”

“Damn,” Dean mumbles, swallowing thickly. “Can we go home, now, daddy?”

Castiel grins at him, pressing another kiss to his lips. “Perhaps we should get going, hmm?” Castiel nips his bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth and letting it slide out from between his teeth. Dean shudders a little, his dick twitching in his pants. “Would you come home with me, love?”

“Yes, please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls comment / kudo if u enjoyed!!!


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone i love you all so much thank u for being so patient with me <3
> 
> happy thanksgiving y’all i’m canadian so we already celebrated ours but ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Dean stretches his arms out around him, halfheartedly covering his mouth with the back of his hand as he yawns. He glances over at the other side of the bed, and smiles to himself when he sees Castiel curled up under the covers, his expression peaceful in his slumber, and his hair a god-awful mess. Ghost is curled up at the foot of the bed, and Teddy is sleeping half on top of her, and half on top of Castiel’s feet. Shadow is tucked in between Castiel and him, and everyone sounds like they’re snoring quietly.

He sighs contentedly, and slips out of the bed, shivering slightly at the cool room air that greets him. He shuffles into the bathroom to relieve his bladder, then washes his face and brushes his teeth. He steps out of the bathroom, and notices that Ghost is awake and eyeing him, having moved away from Teddy, who is now curled up closer to Shadow and Castiel. Dean gestures Ghost to come over to him, and smiles as she hops down gracefully and pads over to him, rubbing her face against his hand and legs.

“Come on, girl,” he whispers, walking out of the bedroom with her at his side. He heads down to the kitchen to start making something for breakfast, and hums quietly to himself as he does. He makes a batch of homemade waffles, and brews enough coffee for both him and Castiel. Glancing at the time, he fills the dog's bowls with food and refills their water dishes. Ghost shuffles over from her spot in the corner and starts eating from her bowl.

Dean hears the clicking of claws, and the padding of feet, but doesn’t move from his seat at the island. Castiel steps up behind him, wrapping his arms around his abdomen, and tucking his face in Dean’s neck. “Good morning, love,” he says, his voice scratchy and warm. Dean leans back and tilts his head to the side, letting the back of his head rest against Castiel’s shoulder.

“Mornin’, Cas,” he says, pressing a kiss to Castiel’s cheek when he lifts his head up. Castiel smiles down at him, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and pecks him on the lips. He pulls away and shuffles over to the coffee pot, pouring himself a generous cup and taking a sip from it with a sigh. He drinks at least half of his cup, then adds more coffee and some milk and sugar. He walks back over to Dean and sits down beside him, throwing an arm over the back of Dean’s chair and turning towards him so he can look at Dean easier.

“How are you today?” Castiel asks, his eyes carefully taking in Dean’s face.

“Fine,” Dean says, shrugging. “You?”

“Also fine,” Castiel says with a little huff. “Have you called anyone yet?” he continues, keeping his gaze on Dean’s face even as he looks away from Castiel. Dean clenches his jaw tightly, and slumps his shoulders, staring down at his mug of coffee. “They want to talk to you, Dean, they want to tell you what’s happened.”

“Can’t you just tell me?”

“No,” Castiel says, shaking his head. “It’s not my place. You need to talk to them, darling, it’s been over six weeks. They’re worried about you, and they miss you. Sam keeps blowing up my phone with messages, and Bobby even left me a text.”

“Bobby _texted_ you?” Dean says, turning to look at him with a chuckle.

“Yeah,” Castiel says, a little grin appearing. “Of course, he called me right after. He said you’re not answering him, and he’s worried. I reassured him that you’re well and fine, and that you just need more space. I told the same to Sam, but he’s been more insistent on speaking with you.”

Dean has kept his phone - a new one courtesy of Castiel - turned off since he got it. Castiel’s hand moves to the spot between his shoulder blades, and rubs gently, nudging Dean to come closer. Dean shifts over a little and rests his head on Castiel’s shoulder. “They miss you, darling,” he says against Dean’s hair. “They want you to tell them that you’re okay. There’s only so much they can believe from me.”

“I know,” he says quietly. “ _I know._ ”

They’re silent for a few minutes, then Dean pulls away and grabs a couple waffles and drizzles syrup on them. Castiel does the same, and they eat in silence, the only sounds their cutlery and the sipping of coffee. Dean finishes first, and decides he’s had enough for now. He cleans his plate and cutlery in the sink and does the same to Castiel’s when he comes over with them. Castiel tides up the kitchen and covers the rest of the waffles.

They relocate to the family room, and curl up on the couch together. Castiel holds him close, his arm wrapped tightly around his shoulders. “I’ll be heading out to the farm in a couple hours,” Castiel says softly, breaking the silence. “Cain and I want to finish this now, he’s at his limit, or almost, anyway.” Dean nods his head, choosing to keep quiet. “I won’t be back until very late, probably bordering on, if not, the next morning.” Castiel drops a kiss to his head.

“Just be safe,” Dean whispers, wrapping an arm around his waist, and hugging him tightly.

“Always, lovely,” he says. Castiel hesitates for a moment, then sighs softly. “I don’t feel the closure I wanted to,” he admits. “I don’t feel anything about it. This just feels… it feels like another job.”

“Maybe when it’s all over, you will,” Dean says. “You’ll feel something about it then.”

“Maybe I will,” Castiel says, doubtful. “Maybe I won’t.”

“You’ll be free,” Dean says, pressing a kiss to Castiel’s shoulder. “And that’s what matters, right?”

“Yeah,” he replies in a low tone. “I’ll be free of him, and this job.” Castiel is silent for a couple minutes, then hesitantly continues, “Dean? Do you… Do you want to move away from here after this? Find a place by a lake in the country, and settle down there? Just us?”

“Cas-” Dean sits up and looks over at him. There’s something hopeful and warm, and almost shy in Castiel’s eyes, a hesitant smile turning the corners of his lips upwards. “I would love to, Cas, you know that. I’ll go anywhere with you.”

“Okay,” Castiel says, hesitant and low. “Okay,” he repeats, a little louder and firmer. Dean grins at him, sitting up and moving to straddle his thighs, pressing a warm, deep kiss to his lips. Dean controls the kiss this time, and Castiel lets him, sighing softly into his mouth and wrapping his arms around Dean’s waist. “I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you, too.”

* * *

Castiel leaves about an hour and a half later, with a deep kiss and a whisper of love and a promise to come home as soon as possible. Dean stretches out across their bed with the dogs and hesitantly flips his phone over and over. It’s cold to the touch from lack of use, and Dean doesn’t know if he’s ready to turn it on.

But then again, how bad could it be? A few dozen messages from his family, wondering how he is, and why he hasn’t been talking to them? Most of them have probably stopped, and he doesn’t think anyone else besides his family has called him since he turned it off. He hopes no bank or something tried to get in contact with him.

Before he can overthink it, he’s pressing the power button and watching as the screen lights up for the first time in weeks and begins to load. He turns onto his back and tugs Shadow closer to him, letting him rest his head on his chest, petting his back and staring up at the ceiling. His phone finishes loading quickly and begins to let out ding after ding after ding, each cutting off the previous one.

He waits until the notifications stop coming through, and then waits a little while longer before picking up his phone and looking at the screen. He unlocks it and pulls down the notification panel, looking at the bunched together messages from Bobby and Sam and Jody. He tackles Bobby first because he knows that he’ll be the least likely to push him to talk. He tells him that he’s doing okay, and he’s thankful for whatever Bobby did for him once upon a time, and he doesn’t want to talk about it anymore.

He moves to Jody next and tells her essentially the same thing. There are several pictures in Jody’s chat, and he stares at the baby girl in them for a long while. Under one of the pictures is a short message.

_‘Her name is Mary.'_

He tells her that Mary is a beautiful baby and that he hopes she’s doing well after the birth and getting her sleep. Dean shakes his head sadly, disappointed that he missed the birth of her and Bobby’s daughter, and ashamed that he actually forgot about it in the midst of his own internal drama; his heart is warmed and beating harder knowing that they named her after his mom.

Jody is quicker to reply than Bobby is, and he gets a message as he’s formulating a message to his brother. Sam had given up on asking him about the whole thing more than halfway through his texts and had settled on telling him Jess’ number in case of some emergency or something, and about how they’re doing, and that he misses him, and he wants to see him again soon.

Dean opens Jody’s text and huffs quietly. She’s asking how he is, and wishing him a happy belated Thanksgiving. He tells her he’s good and asks how she is, wishing her a happy thanksgiving too. After a moment of hesitation, he shoots Bobby and Sam a well-wishing too. He feels guilty, because he missed Thanksgiving with them, something he hasn’t done in years.

He and Castiel had gone out for dinner, and then come home and cuddle on the couch and watched a movie. It had been nice, but it just wasn’t the same as cooking a turkey and all the sides and having your whole family there with you. Maybe Christmas is something they could do. Hopefully.

His phone rings in his hand, and he freezes, staring at Jody’s name on the screen. He answers the phone and holds it up to his ear, holding onto Shadow tightly. “Hello?” he says, his voice cracking slightly.

“Hey, Dean,” Jody says, her voice light and warm and soft. There’s no pity in it or hesitation. “I miss you,” she continues. “And Castiel.”

“I miss you too,” he says. “How are you?”

“Good, you know, the usual.”

“So… Mary, huh?” Dean says, hesitant.

“Yeah,” Jody replies. “I hope that’s okay. Sam suggested it, and well, we thought it would be a good idea.”

“No, I- I like it,” he says. “How is she?”

“Wonderful, Dean,” Jody says. “She’s absolutely wonderful. The sweetest little girl I could have ever asked for. She was born just a few weeks ago, on the third of November.”

“Is she healthy?”

“Oh, yeah. Healthiest baby girl. She’s been napping for a while, so I’ve got some time to myself.” Dean laughs quietly, loosening his grip on Shadow.

“That’s good.”

“Mhmm,” she hums. “Bobby’s been doing well. He’s actually slowed down on the alcohol more, can you believe it? You know how things were before we started dating and I kicked some sense into him, but he hasn’t had a beer in a few weeks now, and I’m pretty sure he’s only had two glasses of whisky in that time.”

“Are you serious?” Dean says, sitting up and nudging Shadow away. Shadow whines at him but moves away willingly, flopping down next to Teddy. “Bobby? Robert Singer?”

“Yes,” Jody says with a laugh. “It’s almost like he’s been replaced by an alien. I have no idea who he is anymore.”

“Damn,” Dean says quietly. “ _Damn._ ” Bobby lowering his intake of alcohol even further than he already has is the weirdest shit he’s ever heard. He’s far from an alcoholic, but he’s definitely enjoyed his fair share of liquors. It has to be because of Mary. It makes sense. She was born a few weeks ago, and he semi-quit a few weeks ago. “How is he with her? What’s he been up to?”

“He’s amazing and incredibly helpful. He takes care of her at night so I can sleep, and doesn’t even flinch when changing her diapers. And, you know, usual Bobby stuff,” Jody says. “Fixing cars, and reading books. Little nerd, that he is.”

“Did you really just call him a nerd?” Dean says, choking on another laugh.

“I’m trying to make you laugh!” Jody says, sounding triumphant. “I think that’s twice so far.” Dean shakes his head to himself and curls up on his side with a smile.  They’re both quiet for a few minutes.

“I miss you, Jody,” he says again in a low voice. “I miss all of you.”

“We miss you too, sweetheart,” Jody says. “Are you coming down for Christmas?”

“Yeah,” he says. “Definitely.” He has to get his shopping done too, it’s almost December.

“That’s good.” Jody sighs softly. “Mary’s starting to squirm, so I gotta go, but call me soon, okay? And maybe call Bobby, he’s worried about you.”

“I will,” Dean promises. “Bye, Jody.”

“Bye, honey. I love you.”

“Yeah, me too,” he mumbles, pulling the phone from his ear and hanging up. He stares down the bed at Ghost and smiles when she tilts her head at him. “I think things are going to be okay,” he says, watching as Ghost slides closer and rests her head on her paws, eyeing him with a gaze that reassures Dean that everything really is going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for any mistakes. and thanks for reading and sticking with me all this while. we're almost at the end and i'm trying to tie up any loose ends. if there's anything u think i should rmbr or elaborate on leave a comment and i'll try sneak it in if i'm not planning on it already. 
> 
> pls comment / kudo / etc if u enjoyed!!!


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